


Bibliophile

by Winddrag0n



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Oral Sex, Storytelling, background fritzel, bottom curran, creative use of call of chaos, heinwald is demisexual, heinwald is nyarlathotep, kind of, there are way more characters I didn't tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winddrag0n/pseuds/Winddrag0n
Summary: "Curran," Heinwald says, "Do you think that we should attempt to have intercourse?"---Elisanne makes the mistake of asking Heinwald how he and Curran got together and the answer is a lot more than she bargained for. What starts as a story told to a single person grows larger and larger, people coming from all over the Halidom to listen in.Curran, meanwhile, hasn't the faintest idea that any of this is happening.
Relationships: Curran/Heinwald (Dragalia Lost)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Bibliophile

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly can't believe it took me this long to write something for this game considering how long I've played it for and how these characters have a death grip on my heart.
> 
> Anyways. I'm _shocked_ to find that people seem to think Curran is a top? I guess all my pent-up feelings on the subject exploded into whatever this is. It's also really fun to consider the implications of their being no less than four versions of Nyarlathotep in the game including Heinwald! So I leaned into that aspect of it.
> 
> Mostly, it's just porn with an insane frame built around it.

Curran had always been something of a curiosity, ever since the moment they first met. While he wore the distinctive garb of an inquisitor of the Ilian Church he wore it loosely, belt haphazardly knotted around his waist, bottoms of the shirt tucked beneath it to keep them from flying about. Despite the messy appearance it was obvious he took his job seriously. The clothes were well cared for, he wore the emblems denoting him a servant of the church, and the look in his eyes made it obvious that he wasn’t messing around. The more immediate indication of his seriousness was the wickedly sharp axe that he held loosely in one hand as if it weighed nothing. By all appearances, the man was a brute.

Except he hadn’t attempted to apprehend Heinwald, not even when he admitted to having memorized a heretical spell at some point in his lifetime. Truthfully, he had a great deal more than just a single spell memorized, but that did not seem relevant to the situation at hand. Heinwald had pleaded his case, and though the inquisitor looked suspicious, he looked equally thoughtful and made no moves to stop Heinwald as he left, leaving nothing but a taunt behind.

He should have known better than to challenge Curran to _anything,_ even then _._ The man never reappearing had been the most obvious outcome, followed by him coming to arrest Heinwald, which would have resulted in a very messy ending; no other options were present in his mind. So when Curran showed up at his mansion a week later he had been entirely prepared to deal with this the hard way. It was quite a surprise when instead the inquisitor had, in one breath, cleared him of wrongdoing and essentially forced him into a partnership. Heinwald did not object, of course, for ever since They had splintered his life had been quite boring. Living as a human had many downsides but it also introduced him to mysteries. He loved mysteries, for mysteries were chaos.

There was one more reason he accepted so readily, one he could tell no one. Though Curran often seemed quite foolish it was false and manufactured, cloaking a remarkably intelligent and perceptive man beneath it. When Heinwald had greeted the inquisitor by name- a name he had never been given- Curran hadn’t even missed a beat, but he _had_ noticed. A quick wit paired with an open mind was a very real threat to Heinwald’s secret nature. Naturally, it only made sense to keep an eye on such a danger, to ensure it never comes to pass.

That caution, at some point, morphed into simple hope the other man would not discover the truth, because he quite enjoyed the time he spent with this man and would regret being forced to kill him.

Somehow he managed to earn Curran’s trust instead. Every mystery they solved relaxed the man further and further until half-serious accusations melted into good-natured teasing. Curran stopped threatening to drag Heinwald to jail when he showed an interest in heretic magic and started threatening it when he overslept because he stayed up deep into the night the day before, pouring over his tomes. There was a very real chance that even if Curran did discover his true nature, he’d choose to betray the church and keep the knowledge buried. 

Heinwald wasn’t exactly itching to put that particular theory to the test.

Regardless, Curran was no longer a danger so Heinwald had no reason to stay. Yet he did not leave. Life was so much more _interesting_ with Curran in it. 

This was when he stopped being swept away in their lifestyle and started actively contributing to it. 

Curran had his own home, always had, but Heinwald’s was much bigger and the mansion gradually became their base of operations of sorts. The inquisitor even had a key. It was for show, of course, as anyone other than Curran barging into his home without being welcomed in would be met with a very nasty surprise. It was quite lucky that Curran was not in any way attuned to mana and could not sense the darkness that pervaded throughout the house. Heinwald thought it quite a waste for Curran to continue paying for a home he rarely used but if the man wanted to blow his money on something so pointless, who was Heinwald to stop him? The church likely paid for it, anyways. 

It started with tea. Curran had a way of entering loudly but not disruptively- perhaps it was his presence that echoed through the halls, not any sort of noise he made. Heinwald put the kettle on and had the tea ready for them both by the time the inquisitor found him in the study.

“Tea?” Heinwald offered, gesturing to the tray. 

Curran, for his part, looked down at the tray like Heinwald had just offered him roasted dragon tails. “I’m sorry?”

“I made tea,” Heinwald repeated. “Would you care for some?”

“You _what?_ ” 

Heinwald’s eyelid twitched with annoyance. “If you do not care for it, feel free to decline.”

“No, tea sounds good.” The ‘but…’ wasn’t said verbally, instead coming across in the way Curran carefully inspected the cup of steaming liquid without taking a sip.

“There is nothing untoward included, I assure you. If I was planning on experimenting on you I would tell you outright.”

“You _have_ to know that that’s the exact opposite of reassuring.” It did the trick, though, and Curran took a careful sip. “Chamomile?” he guessed.

“A blend from Hinamoto, in fact, and one that is so far from chamomile that I am frankly worried by the sheer magnitude that you have missed the mark.”

Curran actually turns a little pink at that, a rare reaction. While he was boisterous and confident in his work behind closed doors he was decidedly more reserved though no less strong of will. “Look, that’s the only tea I actually know the name of, alright? It all tastes the same to me.”

“It most certainly does not. You simply buy nothing else, though I had assumed it was personal preference and not because it was the only thing you recognized as tea.” 

“Hey! I know enough to tell the stuff next to it is also tea, alright? I’m not an idiot.”

“Being intelligent and being stubborn as a mule are not mutually exclusive traits.”

“Alright, mister fancy-pants nobleman, if you’re such a tea expert, how about teaching me a thing or two?”

Heinwald considered that, and saw no reason why he couldn’t. “I suppose I must.”

He’ll never forget the startled look on Curran’s face when he realized that this might be more than a one-off occurrence.

After tea, Heinwald would cook for them, on occasion. Then it was laundry, organizing files on cases, actually doing some of the legwork Curran did himself, until both of them contributed equally to the partnership. Sometimes, when he did something for Curran, the man would smile at him, bright and blinding and grateful. It wasn’t the reason he helped out- he did so simply because it was only fair- but it was an unexpected benefit.

In the end, Heinwald supposed, that was where it began.

“-and so he decided that we should partner so he could more easily keep watch over me, on the off chance I deigned to do anything particularly heretical. He seemed to be something of a magnet for intriguing circumstances so I allowed the situation to proceed.”

Elisanne is looking at him with a curious expression, brow slightly furrowed. She had found Heinwald in the Halidom’s library, pouring through the books as he often did in his free time. There was so much _knowledge_ in here, all sorts of things he had never seen before. It was a veritable treasure trove of lost information. When she asked the question it had come out stammered and nervous. Now, she is too puzzled to be anxious. “Ah,” she begins, and then closes her mouth once more. After a beat of silence she speaks again. “I must thank you for humoring me but I’m afraid that is… not quite what I meant.”

“Hmm?” Heinwald turns the comment over in his mind. “You asked how Curran and I came to be partners, yes?”

Before she manages to answer the paladyn turns scarlet. “Yes, I did, however… I meant it in another sense.”

Ah. Elisanne, despite having quite a following of her own among the various women of the castle, was very obviously besotted with the prince himself. A hopeless romantic, Curran had said. A painful position to be in when the object of your affections seemed to express no interest in the subject on any level, though whether it was due to a deeper nature or simply being oblivious Heinwald cannot say. “Our relationship,” Heinwald clarifies, and Elisanne nods. “Very well. Allow me to start over.”

~~~~~

It was just another day, the two of them holed up in the study, pouring over information about the case they were working. The case was rather boring. While Curran put just as much effort into these as he did the exciting ones, Heinwald could not help but let his mind drift. As he often did when they worked a case together Curran has been staying at the mansion and late at night Heinwald has been hearing… noises. It is not the first time, nor has it become more frequent, though for some reason he finds himself dwelling on it. Well, if they are partners, the solution seems obvious.

“Do you think that we-”

~~~~~

Heinwald is interrupted mid-sentence by the door to the library flying open as a red-haired woman bursts into the room. “Aha! There you are, Heinwald!”

The mage tenses involuntarily. Mym and the library was a historically disastrous combination that had, at least once, ended in a fire. Euden had been on hand to quickly shapeshift into Mercury and extinguish the blaze, thankfully. That is not the case presently. “Mym. How may I assist you?”

She pulls out a stool, sitting heavily down on the wood. It creaks dangerously under the force. “Nyarlathotep has told me you are in the process of telling a story they said I would find most interesting.”

Heinwald’s hand tightens around the book he has been cradling. Nyarlathotep, the black dragon, another splinter of Them. Though they are no longer connected and cannot share thoughts, the splinters can… sense things about the others, on occasion. Repeated exposure seems to strengthen the effect and since Curran had, inexplicably, taken a liking to the thing, Heinwald was around it more often than he necessarily wished to be. 

Seated next to Mym, Elisanne looks startled. “How could it have possibly known?”

The dragoness shrugs. “Who knows what powers that thing possesses. I’m surprised darling even let it in the castle after that horrible business with the library. Now, continue!”

Heinwald sighs. Mym was… it would be inaccurate to call her simple. She was a proud and stubborn dragon with no patience for dwelling on the finer things. It was a kind of pride that came from having the power to justify it. After all, what use is spending hours picking a complex lock on a door when you can simply blow it down instead? He didn’t like dragons, their motives were far less straightforward than those of the humanoid races, but if he had to choose one to reveal something personal too, Mym was an acceptable candidate. “Very well. As I was saying…”

Thirty seconds later, Mym’s eyes are wide and shining with delight, while Elisanne beside her is making a valiant attempt to match the color of the dragon’s tail.

~~~~~

“Do you think that we should attempt to have intercourse?”

Curran actually does a spit-take, spraying tea all over the documents he had been examining. It looks like he’s trying to say something but all it does is trigger a coughing fit.

The documents aren’t terribly soaked but they should be blotted before the ink runs and Heinwald does as much, ‘tsk’ing as he pats them down. “Really, now. That was not called for. It was a simple question.”

The inquisitor holds up a hand as he coughs, asking Heinwald to stay silent until he collects himself. When he finally looks up there are tears in the corners of his eyes from the struggle. “Okay, I think I may have misheard you. Can you repeat that question for me?”

“I asked,” Heinwald begins, slower this time. “If we should have intercourse.”

“Are you asking if we should have _sex?_ ”

Irritation was creeping in. “That is the definition of the word, yes.”

“Heinwald, no offense, but are you _insane?_ ”

“Perfectly sane, thank you very much. I am afraid I do not understand the reason for the level of dramatics in your reaction.”

“First of all, that came out of absolutely nowhere, and second of all, _what are you talking about?_ ”

“Really, Curran, it cannot be more obvious what I am suggesting. If you are struggling to understand I can provide further detail on the matter.”

“Absolutely do _not_ do that, thank you very much. Look, I’m sorry, but this one is beyond me. You’re gonna have to walk me through how you came up with this.”

“Very well,” Heinwald huffs. “You spend most of your time here, do you not?”

“Yup.”

“Though I do not possess one quite so active I am still aware of the fact that humans, particularly males, typically have demanding sex drives. If you are cooped up in here with no one but myself for company it must get frustrating.”

“It really doesn’t,” Curran insists. “I know what’s important. Don’t need anything to warm my bed when rolling out justice for the pronged is just as satisfying.” The mistakes are accompanied by a wince as each comes out, evidence enough that the man isn’t being truthful.

Heinwald doesn’t need any more evidence, though. “A good effort, though the noises I often hear from your room at night are more than enough to debunk your claim.”

Curran, in rapid succession, goes white as a sheet followed by a red Heinwald has never previously seen on an unharmed human being. It happens so quickly he is a bit afraid the man might pass out. “T-That-” Curran stutters. “You retire to your room so early, I t-thought-”

Now this was interesting. Though he often stumbled over his words when trying to appear more impressive than he actually was, Heinwald had _never_ heard Curran have difficulty saying them in the first place, and had never seen him quite so flustered.

He quite likes it.

“You’ve dragged me away from my books in the wee hours of the morning many a time. Did you truly think that when I retired for the night, I immediately went to bed?”

“I don’t- I didn’t- I thought I was-”

“There is nothing to be ashamed of, Curran,” Heinwald interjects with a sigh. “It is a natural urge.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay that you _heard it!”_ Curran, amusingly, seems to have become so flustered that he broke out the other side and beat the stutter altogether. “I’m going to die from embarrassment.”

“A physiological impossibility, I assure you.”

Curran’s mouth ticks down, the first real sign of any emotion other than shame. “Heinwald, it’s a turn of- okay, look. We didn’t have this conversation. Let’s just move on and pretend this didn’t happen.”

That makes Heinwald frown much more openly. “Absurd. Have you forgotten why I brought this up already?”

“Out of the question.” To drive the point home, Curran crosses his arms in a large ‘X’ in front of him. “Not happening. Absolutely not.”

Heinwald makes a frustrated noise. “And why not? Surely it’s much more convenient. I’ve read that it is far more exciting being done at the hands of another.”

“You read _what?_ What kind of books have you been reading? Okay, look.” All shame forgotten, Curran slumps forwards, rubbing at his forehead with a free hand. “Heinwald. I know you’re not exactly socially adjusted.” An insult, but the mage ignores it for the sake of the conversation. “That kind of thing, you’re supposed to do it with the person you like, okay? Not just because it’s convenient.”

“Do you dislike me?”

“No! You’re missing the point!”

“Does your job or religion force you to abstain from sexual encounters with others?”

“No, but-”

“With men in particular?”

“Nothing like th-”

“Then I am failing to see the problem.”

The inquisitor is wearing an exasperated expression. “Alright, look. You’re not suggesting it because you _want_ to do it, you’re suggesting it because somewhere in that twisted mess of a brain you have it makes logical sense.” Curran sits up and leans back against the couch, arms crossed. “Forgive me for not jumping at the opportunity.” 

Ah. So that’s it. “You assume incorrectly.”

At that, Curran’s eyes go wide as saucepans. “Huh?”

“I find myself… curious. After hearing those noises for so long-”

“It wasn’t that often!” Curran protests, which is summarily ignored.

“-of course I would wonder what they accompanied. A mystery, if you will.”

“I’m leaving.” Curran stands, and Heinwald with him. The mage is faster, placing a hand on Curran’s shoulder and pressing him back down onto the couch. He likely succeeds simply because the other man is too surprised to react. 

“Are you truly going to tell me you’re not the least bit interested in what the experience may be like?”

Bingo. It’s obvious in the inquisitor's eyes that the part of him as fiercely curious as Heinwald is has been caught. They stand there like that, Curran sitting on the couch with Heinwald’s hand on his shoulder, for nearly a full minute of silence before the blond finally speaks. “We’re not jumping straight to the last step, got it?”

Bargaining, which means his proposal has already been accepted. “Of course not. Manual stimulation should suffice, I would think.” 

“Do you want me to, uh.” Curran moves a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing awkwardly as his cheeks color. “Do you too?”

Heinwald, as always, had anticipated this question and made his decision ahead of time. “I would prefer to remain clear headed as I collect data, for the time being.”

It prompts a humorless laugh. “I think if you tried harder you could have made that sound even _less_ sexy.”

“Indeed. Now scoot over.”

“What?” Curran’s eyes are wide again, but he does obediently move to the far side of the couch, making room for Heinwald to sit beside him. “Now? You meant now?”

“Would I have suggested it if I had meant later?” The mage sets his book down on the table their tea and papers rest on, rolling up his sleeves.

“I mean, yeah, I think most people would have asked ahead of time.”

“Hmm. The chances of you changing your mind as time passes are quite high, in all likelihood. It would be foolish to wait.”

“That may have been the least reassuring thing you’ve ever said to me and that’s a _really_ high bar.”

“It was not intended to be reassuring.” Without preamble and before Curran can snap back, Heinwald leans forward and places his hand on the front of Curran’s pants, between his legs, and presses down.

Curran makes a strangled noise and while that’s comical, it’s not quite what Heinwald had been aiming for either. “Ilia above! Don’t just go for it like that!”

“Why not?” Heinwald presses harder, which produces a hiss of pain.

“Stop! Are you trying to crush me?”

The mage’s eyes narrow, and he eases up on the pressure. “I suppose not. My knowledge is somewhat lacking in this area.”

It appears that the blush on Curran’s face has set up camp and does not intend to leave anytime soon. “Please don’t tell me I need to walk you through this. How do you do it to yourself?”

“I haven’t,” Heinwald answers honestly, focused on his task. Direct pressure had produced an undesirable result, so perhaps gentler is the way to go. 

“ _What?_ ” Curran doesn’t need to sound so surprised. “Heinwald, look at me.”

Heinwald does, though he doesn’t stop his attempts either, spreading his fingers across where Curran lays beneath his pants. “Yes?”

“Never? As in, never. Not once.” Heinwald presses in, far more gently, surrounding Curran’s cock instead of pushing directly down on it. “You’ve-” He massages gently and the inquisitor’s breath hitches, cutting him off mid sentence. Beneath his fingertips, he feels it twitch.

“You seemed to like that,” Heinwald comments, looking back down at what he’s doing. It’s much more difficult when he cannot see properly, a frustration he repeats out loud before moving the hand not cupped around Curran to the man’s obnoxiously knotted belt, undoing it with deft motions. 

“Woah, slow down-” The protest is cut off again as the hand on him feels around, mapping out the outline through his pants. Heinwald traces the length of it, prompting a sharp intake of breath. Before Curran has a chance to protest once more Heinwald has pulled the belt away and tossed it carelessly off to the side, making quick work of the clasp at the front of the pants. There’s still not really enough room to work with so he tries to pull them down, halted by the simple fact that Curran is sitting down and the couch is, unfortunately, tangible.

“Up,” Heinwald orders, and Curran lifts his hips enough that the pants can be pulled down over his ass. The man can be surprisingly obedient if you don’t give him enough time to think about what he’s being asked to do.

“I don’t really think you need to take them all the way off,” Curran points out as Heinwald does just that. The pants join the belt on some undetermined spot on the floor. It’s much easier to see, like this. The smallclothes Curran wears are close-fitting and end about mid-thigh, with a noticeable bulge where his dick and balls lay underneath. It leaves nothing to the imagination and at this point, there’s no real reason to leave them on as well, so before Curran lowers himself Heinwald yanks them off. “Heinwald!” Curran squeaks, caught off guard to the point where that when he lands back onto the couch cushion, it’s mostly because he fell there. “People don’t usually strip naked to-”

But Heinwald is already picking up Curran’s dick, cradling it in one of his hands as he inspects it. It’s a heavy, warm weight, larger than he had expected it to be. “Is this considered above-average in size?”

Curran has decided to cope with the situation by covering his face with his hands, so his reply, while scathing, is also muffled. “Do I look like I go around inspecting the size of people’s dicks?”

“Gathering information is never something to be ashamed of,” Heinwald answers mildly. He wraps his fingers around the shaft, feeling the heat between his fingers. It’s a curious feeling. “Now, if I remember correctly…” he trails off, pulling his hand away from Curran’s pelvis and then reversing the motion, keeping what seems to be an adequate amount of pressure on the organ. “Is this correct?”

“This is weird,” Curran mutters, which doesn’t _mean_ no. Heinwald makes the same motion again, then again, noting the way the cock he’s holding starts to swell and grow.

“Only weird?” As Curran hardens in his hand he loosens his grip to accommodate the change in size, widening until the man is finally fully erect. It seems huge, but Heinwald suspects that’s simply because he has nothing to compare it to, certainly not his own in this same state. Again, he runs his fingers around the organ, tracing the shape and getting a feel for it. When his fingers touch a certain part- just beneath the head- Curran makes a noise far more similar to ones he’s heard before through walls and closed doors.

“Not only weird,” Curran admits, soft enough that Heinwald turns away from his ministrations and looks up at the man. There’s a gap between his hands where Heinwald can see a glimpse of his partner’s face, flushed, something in his eyes that the mage has never seen before.

All at once everything is too awkward, too concealed, so Heinwald releases Curran’s dick in favor of grabbing his leg at the knee and turning him, hauling the leg up onto the couch and dragging the man forwards until his back is flat on the cushions and his ass is nearly flush against Heinwald’s thigh. With so much less room to leave it after Heinwald ends up simply draping the leg he had grabbed over his own. Curran, for his part, had ripped the hands from his face in an attempt to steady himself at the sudden movement. “Woah, Heinwald, what are you doing?”

“If you cover your face it defeats the purpose of this,” which manages to both avoid the question and not make any sense, but somehow Curran accepts it and makes no move to cover his face once more. His dick curves back against his stomach now, against the cloth of his uniform, something Heinwald knows will only get in the way if left as is, so it only makes logical sense to remove it. Asking Curran to sit up seems like a great effort so he simply unzips it and pushes both halves of it to the side, leaving the undershirt. That Heinwald simply pushes up. “Hold this so it does not fall back down.”

“Why?” Curran asks as he wraps a hand around the fabric, pulling it up and holding it around his neck so his chest is bared.

“Your physique is quite different from mine. It would be foolish to miss this opportunity to examine it more closely.” He runs his hands down the inquisitor’s chest, feeling out the muscles and the way his skin pulls around them, forming patterns Heinwald certainly does not have.

“Yeah, you are pretty scrawny,” Curran laughs, so in retaliation Heinwald wraps a hand around his dick and moves from root to tip. That certainly shuts him up. 

Free to work without interruption, Heinwald lazily jerks the other man off with one hand while he maps out the planes of his torso with the other. There are scars here, some so large and gnarled that it seems a miracle the man survived the injuries that left them at all. They don’t look ugly, not to Heinwald.

He loses track of how long he’s been doing this. It’s intoxicating, the way the flesh moves beneath him with Curran’s breathing, the way the man stays silent save for the heavy breaths that leave his chest. What shocks him out of the trance is when he reaches the head of the cock and feels moisture. Heinwald’s hand on Curran’s chest pauses as he looks down, noting the clear fluid leaking from the head of the man’s cock. A new development. He looks back up, continues past the chest he was so mesmerized by, up until he reaches the inquisitor’s face where he has thrown his other arm across his eyes. Not an intentional effort to conceal himself, it seems, so much as an unconscious reaction to the stimulation. He ‘tsks’ and reaches up, pulling the limb away and letting it fall to the ground, and then _stops._

Curran’s face is flushed, that’s nothing new, but his pupils are blown wide and his mouth is hanging open as he pants, just barely. The man looks dazed, gaze unfocused, eyes slowly sliding over to meet Heinwald’s gaze. His brow starts to furrow. “S’mthing wrong?” he murmurs lazily, words thick in his mouth.

A shiver goes down Heinwald’s spine. He’s never had much interest in this sort of thing, though he wasn’t ever sure if it was due to his true nature or something much more human. Now, looking down at Curran spread beneath him, so open and trusting and content, he feels something inside of himself that is both alien and instantly recognizable, and thinks that maybe there had just been something missing. 

He pulls back, only to hitch the hand not around the man’s cock under a the knee on his lap and push it upwards, pinning it back against his chest. It spreads him open despite the other leg still hanging off the couch. Heinwald grips tighter, thumbs the spot just beneath the head of Curran’s cock, and the man makes a _noise._ A beautiful, wonderful noise.

A moan, he corrects, a smile blossoming across his face. Nothing like the grunts of pleasure he has heard before. Something new. 

Something he needs to hear more of, for the sake of gathering as much data as possible. Clearly. 

Curran tips his head back, further into the cushion, and his hips make an aborted little buck upwards into Heinwald’s halted grip. “Come on,” he whines, voice breathless, so similar to how he sounds after fights that Heinwald _knows_ he’s already created a dangerous association. “Don’t just sit there, man. Do something.”

And so he does, though from the startled noise Curran makes it isn’t what the man expected. Heinwald repositions himself on the couch, kneeling and leaning over the man, bringing his face closer so he can better observe. The hand jerking Curran off moves faster as he peers down at scar and muscle, his bangs falling onto the skin and obscuring it somewhat. He’ll likely need to pin it back, next time. He examines abs, moving upwards past pecs, to a perfect collarbone. That simply did not make any sense- there was nothing inherently appealing about _bones,_ after all. And yet he could not deny the way it drew him in. 

Another wonderful noise comes out of Curran, distracting him away from the man’s shoulders and up to his face, where his eyes have closed in pleasure. Down below, the aborted thrusts have solidified into something much more frequent, the man fucking up into Heinwald’s fist just as intensely as the mage’s movements. He glances down at the ground, following Curran’s tense arm, ending in a hand clenching tightly around the discarded pants to stop it from attempting to cover the rest of his body.

A hand- one that is clearly no longer holding the undershirt up as had been asked of him- takes a fistful of Heinwald’s collar and yanks him back over Curran’s face, eyes now open, half-lidded. “Heinwald,” he pants, “I’m close.”

What an interesting thing to mention- he may assume Heinwald wishes to observe that more directly, though the scholar finds he’s quite content where he is. Curran’s expressions are captivating, the way his pulse flutters and his chest heaves. With his head tipped back there’s a long stretch of skin exposed across his neck, unblemished and tantalizing, and Heinwald wonders what is feels like, what it may _taste_ like-

Ah, but he can find out, can he not? Heinwald leans down and licks a stripe up Curran’s neck (salty with sweat, it turns out, but it’s somehow an enjoyable flavor). The man beneath him bucks upwards with a strangled cry and comes.

Curran’s body relaxes back down into the cushions throughout the orgasm. Once his face evens out into a satisfied bliss Heinwald pulls back, sitting on his heels, to look at the larger picture. He had shot impressively far up his chest- it had been a while, that was part of why Heinwald had brought it up in the first place- the viscous fluid moving slowly, pooling into the dips in the muscles across his chest where it hadn’t landed on the edges of his undershirt instead. The man’s head is tipped to the side, away from the back of the couch, eyes closed once more as his breathing evens out and he comes down from the high.

He’s rumpled and disheveled in a way Heinwald has never seen before, not even in the early morning, in a way he suspects no one has seen before. The thought is ridiculous the longer he thinks about it. Surely someone like Curran has had sex before. Oddly, the thought that others have seen him like this sours his mood. Perhaps he can at least ensure no one else will see it going forward. 

~~~~~

Mym’s eyes are _glittering_ with excitement and Elisanne looks like she might burst into flames at any moment. “Yes, that was the start of it, I suppose,” Heinwald muses.

The paladyn _chokes._ “There’s more?”

“Course there is,” Ranzal laughs. At some point during the story he and Luca had burst into the library, seeking a place to hide from Cleo before she found them and ordered them to assist with chores. _Last place she’ll look for us!_ Ranzal had proclaimed. “Don’t usually go from handjobs to married in one jump.”

“We are not married,” Heinwald corrects.

“May as well be.”

“A point I am forced to concede.”

The door to the library is opened once more, much more carefully than it had been previously. A handsome, bronze-skinned man enters, clad in a white coat tied with a brilliant red sash. Naveed, if Heinwald remembers correctly. Normally wears a white hooded garment as well, something distinctive enough that Heinwald had difficulty placing the man without it. While they haven’t spoken much the mage knows of the lithomancer and can recognize him on sight. He’s always intended to call on the man; lithomancy is a very rarely practiced form of magic in this part of the world, and as such a source of great fascination. Now, however, Heinwald is already occupied.

Naveed, surprisingly, approaches the table where the small group has gathered to listen to Heinwald speak. “Ah, apologies if this is sudden. I was told I may be interested in what is being shared here?”

Sighing, Heinwald rubs at the furrows forming between his brows. “By whom?”

“Cupid.”

While it truly would not have made any sense for the black Nyarlathotep to have told this man, learning that they _are_ apparently sharing this information with every other dragon they cross paths with isn’t exactly a source of comfort. He may have to have a conversation about ‘secrets’ with them after this has finished. “Though I have no objections, I must admit I am struggling to see the relevance.”

“Oh, wait, I got this one!” Luca chimes in, after the sylvan has grown tired of laughing. “Naveed here is on a mission to discover his true love. S’why him and Cupid are tight.”

Heinwald tips his head to the side, considering. “True love?”

“My form of it,” Naveed elaborates. “I would be most grateful if you would indulge me.”

“Hmm. Well, you may sit as well. It is not likely to help you, so I must ask you not to get your hopes up.”

Oddly, Ranzal looks a bit dumbfounded at that. “Wait, Heinwald, do you not-”

“Enough interruptions,” the mage cuts in, irritated. “Allow me to continue.”

Ranzal huffs, leaning over to whisper something to Luca, causing his eyes to grow wide and his ears to twitch. He looks a lot like he’s fighting back more laughter.

Heinwald ignores them and continues.

~~~~~

It was not a one-time thing, of course. Saying it was frequent wouldn’t be entirely correct though Heinwald continued to gather data. The more data he had, the clearer a picture he formed of what exactly he was gathering data _for._ Still, data was always a good thing, so he made sure to accumulate as much of it as possible.

Things were okay, until suddenly they _changed._

As always, it was a case, an investigation into possible heretical activity in a small village. Unfortunately, the lead had been both fake and a setup, landing them in the middle of a forest, surrounded by fiends.

Heinwald wasn’t frightened, of course, as Curran was more than capable of handling enemies of this caliber with or without his own assistance. But Curran had been acting strangely all day, spacing out and not responding when he was called for, forcing Heinwald to repeat himself far more times than he would have liked to. It had put him in quite the sour mood.

That’s the only reason it could have happened the way it did.

Curran’s axe flies back to him after cutting through the fiends in a wide circle (and it really doesn’t make sense that it can do so considering the man’s inability to manipulate mana, therefore the axe itself must be enchanted, but Curran _refuses_ to let him examine it _properly_ ), ending with him slamming it forwards with a shout. It’s a powerful move and quite the finisher- the inquisitor must be as irritated as Heinwald himself is if he would go to such lengths for such a weak group of fiends. “Should be the last of ‘em,” Curran grunts, straightening back up into a more relaxed posture, letting the top of the axe sink into the dirt. “You okay?”

Heinwald, who had done nothing, taps his fingers along the wood of his staff. “I am unharmed.” Something feels off, too tense, there’s still a darkness hiding in the forest- “Curran!” he calls out, sharply.

But the fiend is quicker, catching Curran on the arm with wicked claws and slicing downwards, sending a spray of blood outwards. His cry of pain is piercing, though despite the heavy wound the man has the presence of mind to stumble forwards and away, taking two shaky steps before collapsing to his knees.

The gash looks _bad,_ it’s bleeding quite profusely and Curran’s eyes are closed, face twisted with pain. He’s conscious, at the very least, uninjured arm desperately pressing down at the gash running nearly the length of his entire arm. Heinwald runs forward, slamming the butt of his staff into the ground. “Call of Chaos!”

Hands formed of shadow erupt from the earth, wrapping around the fiend and pulling it down, further and further until it’s crushed between them and the ground, dissolving away as it dies. He redirects the captured life force into Curran and hopes it will be enough.

“Shit!” Curran hisses, which is good, because if he’s well enough to swear he’s doing better than he was before. “Ilia, that hurts!”

“Let me see it.” Heinwald drops the staff onto the ground, hurrying over to Curran and helping him sit properly, good hand still clenched white-knuckled around the injury. It’s hard to judge the state of the wound accurately underneath all of the blood. He pulls out a canteen to wash it away once Curran lets go of his own arm. “A deep cut remains, but nothing life-threatening. You have lost a fair amount of blood in the short time the wound was fully open. How do you feel?”

“A bit light-headed. Not like I’m about to die. A few more stragglers is probably too much to hope for, isn’t it?”

Heinwald shakes his head. His healing is more like a transferring of life, so if there are no enemies around to steal it from he’s as good as worthless. Well, worthless as far as _magical_ healing goes- he carries plenty of medical supplies on his person for this exact reason. “How is your range of movement? Can you still feel all of your fingers?”

The first response he gets is another sharp noise of pain as Curran tests his movement. “Okay, yes, I can definitely feel everything still because that _hurt._ No issues moving my fingers other than, you know, the pain thing.”

Washing away the blood makes the situation much clearer. The deep cut Heinwald had mentioned is restricted mostly to Curran’s forearm now, the rest of it shallow enough to have been healed with his magic. It’s still several inches long and severe enough to need stitches, information he relays back to the inquisitor as he pulls the necessary supplies out of the pockets in his robe. “Please remain still while I sew the wound.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve stitched me up enough times that I know the drill by now.”

Heinwald is not as gentle as he should have been, even as he’s wrapping clean white bandages around the site and tying them off. Quickly and efficiently, he packs the supplies away, ensuring everything is in its place, and once he’s done so he raises a hand and slaps Curran across the face.

“What was that for?!” Curran cries out, flinching when he instinctively tries to raise his hand to cover the site of impact- it was his dominant arm that was injured, after all.

“Those fiends were laughably weak,” Heinwald hisses, scowling openly. “There is _no_ reason one should have been able to catch you off guard. Whatever is distracting you, you cannot afford to let it affect you in the middle of combat.”

“I know!” Curran growls, frowning just as deeply. “I know that, I’m not stupid! I can’t just shut it off like you seem to be able to!”

“Then address the issue,” Heinwald spits, turning away and standing. He grabs his staff, shaking the dirt off of it. “Before it kills you.”

Curran, obnoxiously, says nothing, and most of the journey back to Heinwald’s mansion is done in a tense silence. They seperate, go to their own rooms to clean up, bathe, change into more comfortable clothes. Despite his injury, Curran is quicker, and already sorting through documents in the study when Heinwald enters to do just that. He’s dressed more casually than usual, just a pair of brown breeches and a white long-sleeved shirt with a laced collar.

“So that was obviously a trap,” Curran comments, as normal as he ever is. It’s an olive branch.

“Obviously,” Heinwald agrees. “I expect you are gathering information about our contractor?” 

“Yeah, and.” Curran stops and deflates a bit. “There are some very suspicious discrepancies in what they told us that I really should have caught beforehand. This is pretty much my fault. His good hand goes behind his neck, rubbing there in his nervous gesture, and he faces Heinwald with a sheepish smile. “So, sorry.”

The way he’s looking at Heinwald, so apologetic, asking for forgiveness- “Yes, well, we can speak of this tomorrow,” Heinwald says abruptly, making his way over to the other man. Curran is, annoyingly, sitting in an armchair and not the couch, but Heinwald has made do with less room before. His hands are on the tie at the shirt collar, undoing it and opening it wider so abruptly that Curran actually jumps.

“Hey, hold up-” Curran catches one of Heinwald’s hands and pulls it away. Since he can no longer hold both this accomplishes very little. This shirt doesn’t open all the way down the middle like the inquisitor’s uniform he typically wears, which is just as annoying as the chair he’s sitting in, so it will have to come off entirely. The unrestrained hand travels downwards to curl around the hem and pull upwards. As always, despite his verbal protests Curran lifts his arms above his head and allows Heinwald to remove the offending piece of clothing and ensure it remains nowhere near them both. “Heinwald, _wait._ ”

The tone in his voice is sharp, serious, so Heinwald stops what he is doing. “Is there a problem?”

“Okay, back up a second.” It’s clear he means physically, so Heinwald gives him space. The man is blushing faintly, looks somewhat disgruntled. “I wasn’t going to mention this at all,” he mutters. “But you’re right. I guess I have to.”

“Mention what?”

“The… reason I’ve been so distracted.”

Based on the context, the rest of the statement seems obvious enough. “Ah. Well, if you are becoming aroused during combat-”

“Abso _lutely_ not,” Curran interrupts. “I cannot believe that’s where you went with this.”

“Then what could possibly be the issue?”

“Look. We’ve been doing this a lot, haven’t we?”

It depends what it’s being compared to, ultimately. “If you consider thir-”

“That was not me asking for the exact number, Heinwald. But it’s always just… you, to me.”

The way, even now, that Curran seems unable to speak about it directly is terribly… the word that comes to mind is ‘cute’, but that seems inadequate. People consider baby animals cute and Curran does _not_ inspire the same feelings in him that baby animals do. “Yes, that is correct.”

“It’s just. One-sided.” He looks down, fiddling with the fabric of his pants. “Makes it feel like it’s just another one of your experiments.”

“Of course it is,” Heinwald replies, because it was, wasn’t it? He thinks it counts. That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say, because when Curran raises his head he sees a flash of hurt in the other man’s eyes. 

“Yeah, of course it is. I don’t know why I asked.” Curran starts to stand- he’s going to leave, clearly, and the mood has soured because Heinwald doesn’t understand how humans work and he said the wrong thing _again-_

“Admittedly, I’m not entirely sure what the experiment is.”

Curran freezes in an awkward crouch over the chair. “Huh?”

“I’m gathering a great deal of data without having a clear goal in mind.” Now that he’s started talking, Heinwald can’t really make himself stop. “I have more than enough data points to formulate a hypothesis but that’s not proper experimental procedure, doing research for the sake of learning cannot apply if the results are so similar but I still want to continue-”

“Heinwald,” Curran sighs, sitting back down. He looks mostly exasperated but he also looks _relieved._ “That’s not an experiment.”

“Oh?”

“That’s just trying something new and finding out you like it.”

“Hmm.” That does explain all of the confusion he’s been experiencing. “I suppose that may be the case. I will have to examine this possibility closer at a later date.” With that out of the way, his hands go to Curran’s pants, sliding underneath-

-except Curran is saying his name in that same serious tone again, so with a frustrated huff he pulls his hands back and waits. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“We have determined that both of us enjoy this and so I do not see any issue.”

“So that’s a ‘no’, then. You, look at me.” Heinwald does _not_ appreciate being ordered to do _anything._ He meets Curran’s gaze entirely because it would be counterproductive to do otherwise. “I just told you I don’t like this being one sided.”

“And _I_ have just told _you_ that I enjoy this as well. Is it so difficult to wrap your head around the possibility that I need not be more involved than this?”

“It would be,” Curran begins, in the unbelievably smug tone he adopts when he knows he knows something that Heinwald does not, “except.”

“Except,” Heinwald repeats, prompting Curran to continue.

“Except I’ve seen the way you look after and can say pretty confidently that you _want_ to be much more involved.”

There is silence as the two men stare at each other. It’s Heinwald who breaks it. “Do you have evidence to-”

“Alright, mister scientist, how about this? Why don’t we just _try it?_ ”

It couldn’t hurt. “Very well. I imagine you have something in mind?”

Curran finally manages to stand, stepping away from the chair and gesturing towards it. “Sit your pasty ass down.”

Heinwald does so, allowing Curran to move his legs until they are spread enough for the man to kneel between them. 

And then he looks down at his injury and does nothing. “My right arm is injured,” he eventually says.

“Your right arm is injured,” Heinwald agrees.

“I’m right-handed.”

“You are right handed,” Heinwald confirms. “Have you discovered a flaw in your brilliant plan?”

Curran, of course, seems to take that as a challenge. “No, wait, I can salvage this.” He thinks for a moment- and the way his brow furrows when he thinks is quite cute- until his face lights up. Clearly he has come up with a solution. “Oh, right! Man, that should have been obvious. Open up that creepy robe of yours, will you?”

“My clothes are not ‘creepy’,” Heinwald huffs, undoing his belt to allow the coat to be opened and pushed back, exposing his shirt and pants. 

“Whatever you say,” Curran shrugs. He’s uncoordinated as he tries to undo the tie on Heinwald’s pants with his left hand but he eventually succeeds, tugging them down just enough so that he can easily slide the hand into the smallclothes. With a bit of effort he is able to pull Heinwald free of his pants, cupping the soft cock in his hand.

It’s odd, feeling Curran touch him directly like this, and the way he’s staring at it is even odder. “Is there something you would like to say?”

“I dunno, I kinda expected…” He traces a curving line across the cock with his thumb, clearly referring to the stitching swirling across the rest of Heinwald’s body, in some places dividing the corrupted flesh from the yet untouched. “Eh, doesn’t matter anyways.” With that he leans forward, opens his mouth and licks the length of-

~~~~~

“Oh my,” Naveed murmurs. To his credit, he does so quietly, but it’s enough to disrupt Heinwald, who stops mid sentence to turn and look at the man disapprovingly.

“Yeah, he’s just gonna keep going with it too,” Ranzal adds, slapping the lithomancer on the back with a blow so hard it jerks his entire body forwards. “Whoops.”

Naveed is spared from Heinwald’s ire by the door to the library opening, an event that would have interrupted them all the same and in no way could have been connected to the outburst. There is a familiar conductor on the other side, a face everyone recognizes from the many concerts the Halidom has put on, black hair curling outwards and framing a face kept calm and neutral. “Oh dear,” Vixel says softly. “I had hoped the library would not be in use so we could practice here. My apologies.”

“Wait, hold on.” A much louder voice emanates from behind him before a flashy blond is pushing past and into the room itself. “This looks fun. What’s happening here?”

“Fritz,” the conductor chastises gently, reminding him to be polite. 

It’s rather odd that they decided to come to the library of all places to practice, considering the nature of their combined act. One of the many music rooms made far more sense, or perhaps the target range outdoors as the act involved Fritz’s talent of knife-throwing. Come to think of it, they never _did_ to seem to get any closer to actually completing said act and performing it for others. Perhaps Curran would be interested in uncovering the mystery as well.

“It’s plenty fun,” Vanessa grins from where she’s seated on a backwards chair near the rear of the group. She had always been here, apparently, which had surprised Heinwald as she didn’t seem the type to read. It was foolish to judge others based on appearances, though she _had_ looked like she had just woken up when she first joined them. “Heinwald’s telling us a story.”

“You do love a good story,” Vixel murmurs, seconds before Fritz makes a beeline for the ever-growing crowd. The performer sits directly on one of the other tables, legs dangling down beneath him, the conductor leaning against it beside him “Would you mind terribly if we joined?”

Heinwald shrugs. As long as he can get back to telling his story, he doesn’t really care what anyone else does.

~~~~~

Curran licks the length of Heinwald’s cock and pauses for a moment, like he’s examining the taste. It gives Heinwald time for his brain to reset. The second the tongue had touched him it was like a shock ran up his entire body, shooting through him like a bolt of lightning. “Is everything satisfactory?” he manages to say.

“Just making sure you cleaned yourself,” Curran shoots back with a crooked grin. 

“Of course I clean myself,” Heinwald starts, but then he notices Curran is opening his mouth much wider than before and he’s sort of aiming a bit lower, something that doesn’t quite seem to make any sense-

Oh. _Oh._ Curran slides the tip of Heinwald’s cock into his mouth, opening wider as he slides further forwards, engulfing Heinwald in a wonderful, all-consuming heat. It’s slick with spit in here, comfy and warm, not a hint of teeth in sight, something he only belatedly thought to be concerned about. He’ll have to stop eventually, Heinwald assumes, except Curran just keeps going and going until every inch of Heinwald is inside of him. Humans have a gag reflex, this is a logical fact that Heinwald knows to be true, but Curran’s is _clearly_ broken in some way. It’s obvious from the way he sucks, the way he has no trouble pulling back and sliding back into place, the way he only stops going all the way back down gradually as Heinwald hardens and enlarges and becomes too much to bear. He pulls all the way off with an audible ‘pop’, sitting back on his heels and looking _unbearably_ smugly proud as he grins at Heinwald’s fully hardened cock. “Guess you’re a grower.”

A small line of saliva still connects the two, stretching from the tip of his dick to Curran’s reddening lips. Heinwald’s fingers curl into the arms of the chair and he whispers three words- “Call of Chaos.”

Curran lets out a _very_ undignified scream as the shadowy hands emerge from the ground, the largest grabbing him around the middle and lifting him several feet off the ground. “Woah woah woah woah woah-” he’s chanting, like it’ll save him from whatever is happening.

“You did say something about disliking it being one-sided, did you not?” The other two shadowy hands- much smaller, about the size of a human's- grab the edges of Curran’s breeches and start pulling them down.

“What are you doing? Where’s your staff?”

“The staff is merely a focus,” Heinwald explains slowly, as if talking to a child. He takes the moment to remove his own coat, something that had been rapidly growing uncomfortable. “I am perfectly capable of utilizing magic without it. The only difference is the strength of the spell and I believe that we can both agree I do not need this particular iteration to be powerful.” 

“Is that why-” Curran’s cut off by another startled squeak as the larger hand sets him back down where he started, freshly stripped. “Why two of them are so small?”

“Yes,” Heinwald answers, because ‘probably’ would not get the best reaction from the other man. “Do not worry, I am in total control of the spell as usual.”

“And how sure are you on that one?”

“Entirely,” Heinwald lies, watching the way the larger hand is curling around Curran tenderly, one giant finger tracing the line of his jaw. He’s _pretty_ sure he’s not the one making it do that. It’s probably fine. “You may continue.”

“Yes, master,” Curran deadpans, rolling his eyes, which also means he misses the way the words make Heinwald shiver. Something for later, if he can convince Curran, at least. Oblivious, the inquisitor leans forward once more, this time wrapping his good hand around the base of Heinwald’s cock, and then his lips meet his fingers.

A tiny, distant part of Heinwald wonders if it always feels this good or if Curran is just particularly talented in this area. That part is easily ignored in favor of the wet heat of Curran’s mouth, the way he uses his hand to work the areas he cannot easily fit inside, the way his tongue presses up against him in time with his motions. His eyes are closed as he focuses on what he is doing, allowing himself to get lost in it, looking frightfully composed for someone in his position. Heinwald lets him get as far down as he usually does before maneuvering one of the shadowy hands to wrap around Curran’s own dick, forcing the man’s eyes open as he makes a choked-off noise, one that vibrates down through Heinwald in the most pleasing way. Curran looks up at him through his eyelashes, something that probably could have been sexy if the look didn’t so obviously say _really, Heinwald?_ If he’s trying to chastise Heinwald, the cock down his throat is really dampening the effect.

This time when his eyes flutter shut it’s from pleasure. His movements are less confident now with Heinwald breaking his composure like this, sloppy and uncoordinated. Saliva escapes his mouth and slides down his chin. Something about it looks so dirty, so debauched, and Heinwald _loves it._ He thinks, if possible, he would like to stay like this forever. 

Except Curran pulls off of him with a startled gasp, body curving forwards and away, Curran turning his face into Heinwald’s thigh. “Wait, hold on a second,” he’s pleading, lips red and swollen.

The giant hand is curving down over the inquisitor’s back, the middle finger pressing down between his legs, probing. Heinwald leans over and swats it.

When the hand retreats Curran pulls back. Whether he noticed the significance of that or not, only time will tell, since he doesn’t seem interested in stopping. “Thank you,” he sighs, relieved. He doesn’t seem to realize how _disappointed_ he looks.

The second smaller hand isn’t really being used, which is quite perfect. As Curran settles back into place Heinwald moves it down, to the space the larger one had been trying to invade. The hands are shadow, frictionless, despite how tangible they feel. He does not foresee any issues.

He moves the hand slowly, telegraphing its intentions very obviously, so Curran has time to object should he desire to do so. Instead, he leans into it, and when the pointer finger presses inside of him, his breath hitches.

It seems that Curran both anticipates and is embarrassed by the noises he may make as he wastes no time in swallowing down Heinwald’s cock again, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks. The sensation of the hands is odd, for Heinwald. Though he cannot directly feel what they do he is acutely aware of it. He knows that it must be hot and tight inside, knows how it must hug the finger, finds a place that feels different and drags the shadowy finger across it experimentally. Even muffled by his cock, he can hear the high-pitched noise Curran makes. “Interesting,” he murmurs, rubbing the bump and gently pressing down. The prostate, clearly. Stimulating it can be very pleasurable and Curran certainly seems to be enjoying it.

Heinwald’s own pleasure- the physical, at least- seems nothing more than an afterthought as he focuses on exploring this new piece of physiology. He could do so much more with a second appendage and so he slides another finger in, making Curran gasp- when did he pull off entirely?- and then he’s rubbing over it, pressing with alternating fingers, tracing the shape of it-

“Heinwald,” Curran moans, his hand fisted in the white shirt. “I’m sorry, I c-can’t anymore. You- ah-” Words seem to leave him so he simply leans back and looks up. His face is flushed, eyes unfocused and glazed with arousal. Heinwald stops, for a moment, so the inquisitor can gather himself enough to speak. “It’s fine,” he finally says. “Do whatever you need to.” Heinwald is about to ask the man just what it is he means when that mouth opens again, closing around the head of the mage’s cock, while his good hand encircles Heinwald’s wrist and brings the mage’s hand to rest atop his head.

That brings the physical need back to the front of Heinwald’s mind with unimaginable force. He stands abruptly, the larger hand picking Curran up and moving him backwards just enough to make room, and then he does something that he absolutely, unequivocally should _not_ have done. 

He releases the shadowy hands, telling them to continue what they are doing, entirely on their own.

Curran’s eyes widen before slamming shut. Heinwald no longer has no idea what the fingers inside of the man beneath him are doing- he disconnected from them, after all- but from what little he can see they appear to be moving much more aggressively, more intensely than before. The other man’s hand curls upward, curving behind Heinwald and settling at the small of his back, urging him forwards- and forwards he goes, thrusting into that wonderful mouth, hand fisting in the blond hair and pulling his head down to meet the movement. It feels scarily automatic at this point, Heinwald fairly certain that nothing in the entire universe could stop him fucking into Curran’s waiting mouth like this, muffled noises and spit flowing freely. The splinters of Them could start to fuse back together at this very moment and he would probably tell them to fuck right off and try again later.

Though his position does not allow for a great deal of movement Curran himself is far from idle, hips rocking back and forth between the two shadowy hands. The larger hand does not try anything inadvisable again, fingers wrapping around Curran’s torso, simply feeling him for lack of anything else to do. One of the fingers reaches upwards, petting at the base of Curran’s hair, so close to Heinwald’s hand that he’s just about ready to slap the thing away from _his_ partner when Curran makes a loud noise, eyes flying open as he comes.

Seeing it- he’s seen it quite a few times already but this one feels different, somehow, and that slight change is the last piece Heinwald needed. His partner, though forgiving, would likely not be happy if Heinwald came straight down his throat so a split second before it all builds and builds and bursts, he yanks Curran off of his cock and paints his face instead.

Curran looks like he’s gone somewhere else, blissful and hazy and stunned. When Heinwald dismisses the spell the other man falls forward, Heinwald himself collapsing to his knees to catch him. The man’s head rests on his shoulder, breathing slowing and steadying and evening until Heinwald realizes he’s fallen asleep.

He is entirely incapable of carrying Curran to his bedroom so he rearranges them on the floor and lets Curran sleep draped across him. Their backs will suffer for it in the morning, but it’s a price he’s willing to pay.

Later, when he’s cleaning the area after Curran had woken just long enough to stumble upstairs to a bed, he notices something unusual. Curran’s own ejaculate- and he knows it had existed, had seen it shooting down into the inky darkness of the spell- seems to have mysteriously vanished.

~~~~~

“I am beginning to believe we have different definitions of the word ‘love’,” Naveed comments slowly, after the silence that hung once Heinwald finished this particular chapter of his story.

“He’ll get there,” Ranzal assures the other man with yet another bone-rattling slap on the back.

“I _did_ say I was not confident this would assist you in any way,” Heinwald points out. Naveed, somewhat uncharacteristically, simply shrugs. 

Vanessa perks up. “This has to keep going, right?” Heinwald nods, and she pumps her fist into the air. “Awesome! We should get some grub from the kitchen! Just don’t tell Cleo what it’s for.”

“That ship has well and truly sailed.” At the sound of the voice, everyone jumps, Ranzal and Luca in particular. The sylvan in question stands at the rear of the group, looking decidedly unimpressed, arms crossed and sporting a deep frown. Even _Heinwald_ hadn’t heard her enter.

Luca is in the middle of trying to scramble under a table when the door opens, revealing both Euden and Leif, more people tucked behind them. “Oh! The room is already being used, Lief. We can have the meeting elsewhere.”

At the sound of the prince’s voice Mym swivels in her seat, a wide grin on her face. “Darling!”

“What’s going on in here?” A voice not many recognize- Chelle, who makes her presence known by draping herself dramatically across the captain of the White Sparrows. He doesn’t even flinch, clearly used to the behavior. “This seems so much more fun.”

“We need to have this meeting, my lady,” Leif admonishes. “It is of vital strategic importance.”

“How dreary. Allow me to stop by the Dragon’s Roost before we begin.”

“I think that can be arranged,” Euden smiles, as agreeable as ever. With a wave, the group turns and leaves.

This is when Mym leaps to her feet and cuts a destructive path through the gathered crowd, knocking people over left and right with her heavy tail. “Euden, darling! I’ve learned so much, I simply _must_ speak to you!”

Cleo snaps to attention. “Mym, I am not sure-” It falls on deaf ears as the dragon crashes out the door, a frantic sylvan running behind her.

With the threat of danger gone, Ranzal and Luca let out dramatic sighs. “Still think we should get snacks,” Vanessa mutters, suddenly far closer than she had been before. It seems she has taken advantage of the chaos to claim the freshly vacated spot next to Elisanne. The paladyn herself seems like she may possibly be in some level of shock.

The door opens again, an interruption Heinwald has now accepted as inevitable. In comes Verica, laden with plates of food in perhaps the most surprising arrival of all. Pipple trails behind her with the rest. Heinwald’s eyes are immediately locked on the mysterious creature, one he so desperately wants to examine. There is an odd feeling he gets when he gazes upon it, something almost like… a kinship. If only he could get his hands on one of its offspring. “I do hope I’ve made it in time,” the seer greets.

“Damn!” Ranzal laughs. “That’s a hell of a useful divination you got there.” 

“Pii!” the little vegetable cries, a basket of bread balanced precariously on its head. As Verica sets the plates down and collects the basket it immediately attempts to throw itself onto the serving plates amongst the rest of the food, something Verica easily prevents. 

“You here to listen in too?” It’s Fritz who speaks this time, now sitting cross-legged on the table. The two must be reasonably well acquainted from the times the seer has offered the circus her services for shows.

“I’m afraid not.” Verica shakes her head, looking around the room. “I am early, it appears, and so will wait here until the time arrives.”

“Got business already? Shame.”

“We had business too, if you may recall,” Vixel interjects.

“Yeah but how often does stuff like this come up? Can’t miss something like this!” Vixel does reply, but he does so secretively, leaning closer and whispering something in the ear of the dagger-thrower. Whatever he said makes the other man go scarlet. “Okay, well it’s still entertaining,” he mutters, somewhat shakily. Vixel seems to accept that excuse.

Heinwald allows everyone time to settle back in, grabbing items off the plates to eat. Though he cannot eat himself due to his role as storyteller he accepts the tea Verica kindly offers him. Once everyone is comfortable, he restarts the story.

~~~~~

Heinwald got away with it for a while. He knows that Curran will bring up his usage of the spell eventually but they are distracted by a sudden influx of cases, all carrying a similar theme. Abductions, mostly women, and all from smaller villages that are less easily defended. Case by case they find the victims, unharmed but rattled, with no memory of what has happened to them. It’s an alarming pattern.

There is time between cases for Curran to ask and Heinwald ensures he is far too preoccupied to do so.

Eventually what they discover is enough to connect the cases and lead them back to a possible culprit. It catches them by surprise; a dragon, corrupted with some sort of strange black mana, searching for a bride to restore its former power. Misguided, obviously, and weakened greatly because of it.

A dragon is still a dragon, even weakened, and it is not an easy fight. Heinwald has been hesitant to use Call of Chaos but here he is forced to. The dragon swings at him and Curran jumps between, bracing his axe flat against his left arm as a makeshift shield, deflecting the blow but fracturing his arm in the process. The spell is in the middle of being cast before Heinwald even quite realizes what he is doing. 

It heals Curran as normal and Heinwald allows himself a moment of relief before the fight takes precedent. 

They emerge victorious, with a finishing blow of shadowy hands pinning the dragon to the ground as Curran slams his axe down and cleaves the head in twain. Curiously, it dissolves away as a fiend might. Heinwald pulls his staff up off of the ground, enough to cancel the spell.

It doesn’t work. The shadowy darkness remains, the three giant hands raising themselves up, swaying back and forth until they all simultaneously turn and point towards Curran.

“Uh…” is all the inquisitor gets out before they surge forwards, knocking him to the ground. There’s a moment of blinding _panic_ when it seems like they may be attacking him right up until the fabric of Curran’s jacket is pinched between the massive fingers of two hands and ripped apart with frightening ease. “I don’t really think this is the time for this!” Curran yelps as a hand curls around his torso and lifts him up off the ground.

“Unfortunately I do not appear to be in control of the spell any longer,” Heinwald apologizes, frustratingly calm.

“You’re _what?_ ” Curran’s voice continues to climb in pitch as panic sets in. “Make it stop!”

“I am trying,” Heinwald bites back. Recasting the spell should cancel this instance of it but when he tries to do so, with or without the staff assisting, nothing seems to happen.

One giant finger slides between Curran’s dangling legs, forcing him to straddle it, curling upwards so closely to his body that its intentions are unmistakable. “We are going to have a conversation about this later if this thing doesn’t manage to _fuck me to death_ first!”

“I’m trying!” Heinwald snaps. Nothing is working, it seems to have a mind of its own at this point, he can see them ripping away his pants now, if they try to force inside it really will _kill_ his partner-

Heinwald slams the butt of his staff into the ground, sending a reverberation through the earth, shocking all the hands into stillness. “ _Begone,_ ” he snarls, voice echoing with the cries of a thousand others.

The spell vanishes, sending Curran crashing back into the ground that is soft enough not to injure him. Heinwald hurries to him- Curran is shaking, from fear and outrage. His clothes are ruined beyond repair, hanging across his shoulders and thighs in tatters, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Not the best time to find another thing he likes, though Heinwald is accustomed to ignoring these urges. They’d never get any work done otherwise. 

“We are going to go back to your mansion, I will get a change of clothes, and then I will go report to the church. When I get back we are going to talk about this and you are going to be _honest with me._ Understand?”

Heinwald just nods. There’s no hiding it now, after all.

“Good. Now give me your cloak so I’m not walking back through the village stark naked.”

~~~~~

“That can’t have fit him,” Su Fang points out, another recent arrival, clearly waiting to meet someone from the way he had gathered up a stack of books before sitting near the back. Books on pyroblossoms, which seemed entirely unnecessary for the artisan. 

“His shoulders were the problem,” Heinwald confirms. “In the end he couldn’t do up the buttons above his navel and was forced to hold the axe in front of the gap that was left to preserve his modesty.”

“Scandalous,” Cassandra smiles, managing to make the word itself sound dirty. “Must have made quite the picture.”

It had, in fact, and Heinwald had battled with the urge to peel the coat off the man’s shoulders and roll it off of him nearly the entire journey home. The waves of anger pouring off the other man had helped to curb the desire somewhat. Only somewhat.

There is faint chirping, a sound that makes Verica straighten. The seer stands and casually makes her way to the entrance of the door, pausing, turning back around with a concerned look on her face. “You may wish to pause the story for a brief period of time. Everything will be okay but I would advise everyone to avoid the entrance of the library for now.” With that cryptic warning she opens the door just before Maribelle can do so from the other side.

“Oh! Verica!” the young girl exclaims. “Are you here to study too?”

“I am,” Verica answers kindly, taking the child’s hand. “The library is very crowded today. Why don’t we go somewhere else?”

“Are you going to tutor me?”

“Of course!”

The pair leave quietly, door swinging closed behind them.

“Nice save,” Ranzal murmurs, impressed. 

Everyone knows better than to ignore the seer’s warnings so idle chit chat fills the room as the group waits for the foretold catastrophe to arrive. Heinwald would not, in any way, consider himself to be a sociable person, but he finds himself included regardless. It’s Ieyasu, calm as ever, that is currently asking him a question. For someone who was supposedly ruling over a land of his own, he seemed to have a lot of free time left for visits to New Alberia. “How long ago did all of this occur?”

“At this point in the story it is roughly two years before we joined up with the prince.”

“Oh my, truly? It has always felt like your relationship was far older than that.”

“Well how about this?” Botan chimes in. The childhood friends were often found together- making up for lost time, he supposed. “When did you guys start working together?”

“It’s been a decade, I would say.”

“See? Just took ‘em a long time to figure it out, right? We’ve got our own brand of that ourselves.”

Heinwald is about to protest- the idea that he is _slow on the uptake_ is deeply offensive to him- but there is a commotion approaching the doors, one loud enough to make the crowd fall silent.

The doors to the library are very large, unreasonably so, but even still they suddenly seem tiny when they slam outwards, a black-tipped beak crashing through them. “Confound these doors!” Jupiter screeches. The lightwyrm attempts to enter the library and is promptly held back by the doorframe. His relatively smaller frame compared to the other greatwyrms means he could easily make it inside if only he tried it from another angle, something he makes no attempt to do. “This entranceway is inadequate!” As stubborn as ever, the dragon simply plants his feet on the floor and pushes, trying to force his way in. Just before it seems like the walls might give way he slides free, the sudden surplus of force sending him flying off to the side, colliding with a large bookcase that is knocked to the ground. “Fie! You dare oppose me?” The dragon’s eyes lock onto the broken bookcase, body crackling with electricity.

Everyone moves into action, reaching for anything resembling a weapon or a shield, Ieyasu looking very much like he is about to transform into Marishiten and take the blow for the rest of them, but there is the gradually increasing sound of footsteps as someone runs towards the library. A blond man slides underneath Jupiter’s large frame blocking the entrance, raising a sword high into the air. “Get down!” 

All of the people in the library drop to the ground immediately. Jupiter unleashes his lightning only for it to redirect towards Albert’s sword, ripping down through his body with a popping noise. The man grits his teeth- even for someone who wields thunder and lightning so easily, a greatwyrm’s power is too much to bear for very long. He rotates the blade before swinging it down towards the dragon, hitting him with the flat of it, sending the lightning right back where it came from.

The shock makes Jupiter’s feathers puff up as a shiver runs up his form, ending with him shaking his head and sneezing. “Ah, very well. I suppose that was uncalled for.” Like nothing even happened the dragon sits down, settling over the mess of books he has knocked to the floor, ensuring it will not be cleaned up for quite some time. He nods to Heinwald. “Carry on.”

Heinwald does not carry on, not after an interruption like that. “May I ask what you are doing here?”

“You may not,” the dragon replies. Fritz catches Heinwald’s attention and very obviously mouths the name _Chelle._

Albert is unharmed, of course, but does not appear to be here to join them. Su Fang approaches the man, handing over some of the books he has collected. They leave the library, closing the large doors behind them, popping one of them back into place as they go.

~~~~~

The atmosphere of the room is unbearably tense. Things are tense between them quite often, it’s expected when you have two people so stubborn and with drastically different priorities, but this was a far cry from ‘Curran found the cursed tome Heinwald had been hiding from him’. This was Curran, deathly serious, cold and distant. _He knows,_ Heinwald realizes, _or suspects._ There was no possible way the inquisitor could truly _know._

“You told me you had full control over the spell.”

Getting right to the heart of the matter. “And I did not lie.”

“So what exactly, Heinwald, _is_ the spell?”

The mage pauses, his suspicions confirmed. Lying at this stage would only harm their relationship, possibly irreparably. “A spell that borrows the power of an otherworldly being.”

Curran looks like he’s been struck. He had suspected, obviously, but hearing your fears outright confirmed is another thing entirely. “That is, by definition, heretical magic. Have you _ever_ been in control of the hands?”

“The vast majority of the time, yes. Only today and…” He trails off and does not finish. 

“And _when,_ Heinwald?” It’s forced through gritted teeth. 

“When it was used. Recreationally. I only controlled the smaller appendages. The largest listened to me, I simply did not directly control it.” The last part is rushed out before a reddening Curran can spit out whatever is building inside of him.

“You _promised me,_ Heinwald!” Curran is close to shouting. “I asked you if you were in control and you lied to my face.”

“I was!” Heinwald protests. “If things had gotten out of hand I could have cut it off immediately.”

“Like today?”

“Today was…” he trails off again. “Today was something I had never even considered.”

Curran closes his eyes, clearly trying to calm himself down. “What do you know about the nature of the being itself?”

A great deal, considering it was a collective of the pieces of Them that had not been given physical form. Strangely, the thought of continuing to lie to Curran makes his stomach turn, though he is acutely aware that if he tells Curran of his true nature the man will, in the absolute best case scenario, walk out of his life and never return. An utterly unacceptable result. “Enough to know it poses no direct threat to us.”

“Well it’s sure not killing things for you for free.”

“It desires life force.”

“It _what?_ ”

“Not to strengthen itself,” Heinwald continues. “It is more of something it simply enjoys eating. The being has no desire to cross into our world and is not gathering strength to do exactly that.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for not trusting your judgement here.”

“If it ever wishes to cross into this world, it has more than enough power to do already, with or without the paltry offerings I give it.”

“Don’t you _dare_ try to tell me this is some noble cause, you keeping it satisfied so it doesn’t cross over and destroy our world.”

“An argument could be made for that very thing but I would be lying to you once more if I said those were my intentions.”

“Then why?”

“The first time, as always, was curiosity. Beyond that, it is simply a powerful weapon.”

“Don’t use it again.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me,” Curran growls. “Don’t ever use that spell again.”

“I refuse.”

Curran stands- just to pace, not to leave. “It goes against _everything_ the Ilian Church stands for. You _know_ it does, or else you would have already told me.”

Everything the _church_ stands for, Heinwald notes. Nothing about Curran himself. “The spell is far too useful to abandon. This is the only manner in which I can heal you.”

“I can’t work with you if you’re using heretical magic. There’s no way I can accept that.”

“I refuse.”

The near-nonsensical repeat of a previous answer stops Curran in his tracks. “You refuse? Refuse what?”

“Ending the partnership over such a pointless reason, now that I have seen how dangerous your job often is.”

“Heinwald, I did my job just fine without you before we met. I’m perfectly capable of doing it alone.”

That hurts, unexpectedly. It hurts a _lot._ “Yes, you have a great many scars to show just how _capable_ you are.”

“I knew how dangerous the job would be when I took it. Scars don’t bother me.”

Heinwald rises to his feet, hands clenched into fists. “I suspect a great deal of things will no longer bother you once you encounter an enemy such as that dragon, alone, and it kills you.”

“So what? Most inquisitors die young. I knew what I was getting into, Heinwald.”

“Unacceptable,” Heinwald murmurs.

“What was that?”

“Unacceptable!” Heinwald repeats, raising his voice to a volume so high that Curran looks shocked by it. “Just because _you_ seem to have accepted and made peace with the idea that you may very well be killed in battle so quickly, it does not mean that others have!”

“I can’t work with someone who uses the power of the otherworld!”

“And I cannot _allow you to die!_ ”

Curran abruptly turns away, face contorted into a grimace. “I need to get some air.” Heinwald does not stop him from leaving.

There are many reasons, logically, why Curran has to return- a great deal of his possessions are here, including his weapon and some important documentation from the church, but despite this, Heinwald feels the fear that this is the last time he will ever see the man with a force he did not even think possible.

~~~~~

“That’s terrible!” Luca? cries. “Did you ever make up?”

“Unfortunately not,” Vixel answers, not even missing a beat. “The Curran we know is a different man entirely.”

“Identical twins,” Fritz adds. 

“We must right this injustice!” Xander stands, a determined look on his face. He had made quite the commotion when he had arrived, which was ignored as things relating to Xander often were. “No vassal of mine should feel a pain this great! I will find the original Curran and bring him here!”

Everybody turns to watch the disgraced king march out of the room. “Should we stop him?” Ieyasu asks. There is a chorus of ‘no’s and ‘not worth it’s and ‘I’m sure it’s fine’s in response.

At the front of the pack in the same chair she started in, Elisanne looks concerned. “That spell… I’ve seen you use it a great many times.”

“Indeed,” Heinwald confirms. 

“Is it truly connected to an otherwordly being?”

Though she served a different branch, Elisanne was still part of the Ilian church, after all. A consideration that had come far too late to account for. “All that I have told you was truth.”

“Surely the church-”

“I have express permission from the church to continue utilizing it.”

“What?!” The room falls silent with shock.

“Shall I continue?”

Slowly, the paladyn nods, and Heinwald obliges.

~~~~~

Curran was gone for several days, long enough to nearly drive Heinwald mad with worry. Every knock has him rushing to the door but it’s never more than cases, all of which he refuses. He’s in no state to pursue mysteries right now. Every night he dreams of walking through forests and finding Curran’s bloody corpse on the ground.

A strong hand shakes him out of sleep in the midst of one, sending him gasping awake, unable to believe the vision of the blond man before him. “Curran?”

He’s wearing a new uniform, identical in appearance to his previous one but carrying the crisp lines of unworn clothes. “Woah, you okay?”

Without another word Heinwald launches himself off the couch he had dozed on, wrapping his arms around his partner, who stumbles under the sudden weight but manages to stay upright. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” Curran replies softly. He sounds tired. “I’m back.”

After several long minutes, Curran gently pries the mage away from him and guides him back onto the couch. Heinwald’s vision is oddly blurry and he cannot place the reason why- he rubs at his eyes until it clears, noting the moisture they come away with. An unusual reaction. 

Curran does not sit down with him. “I think I need to apologize.”

“Whatever for? Leaving in that circumstance was a perfectly rational response-”

“Okay, leave ‘rational’ behind for a second. If you’re capable of doing that. I just up and vanished for three days. Which, by the way, is something _you’re_ good at. But after a fight like that it probably seemed pretty bad.”

“It did.”

“I’ve… been thinking, a lot. And I had to go do something.” He pats his pockets as if looking for something, eventually extracting a folded-up piece of paper. “I reported to the church.”

“Hm?” Heinwald accepts the paper and begins unfolding it. “Yes, you do that frequently. I was under the impression that there was a location nearby that you utilized.”

“Yeah, about that. I sort of went to see the Bishop.”

It’s lucky that Heinwald already has the paper unfolded, as he may have reached a much different conclusion otherwise. He reads it, over and over, scarcely believing what he’s seeing. “How on earth did you obtain this?”

“Bishop’s an understanding guy. The Ilian Church acknowledges that you are using a heretical spell, but they also take into consideration all of the good you’ve done with it. You are allowed to continue using it _only if_ you are under the supervision of an agent of the church itself. AKA me.”

There was a great deal of irony attached to the fact that the church has essentially given him the all clear to feed an enormously powerful, reality warping entity, even if it _was_ currently drastically weakened. And had no interest in altering much of anything at the moment. “Was this always your intention?”

“You know me- the pan with a clam.” Silence hangs in the air for several seconds before Curran sits, not on the couch or a chair, but on the table resting right in front of it. “Okay, fine. I didn’t really have any sort of goal at first. Just knew I had to report this; my conscience wouldn’t allow otherwise. When I told it all to the Bishop he asked me what my intention was when I gave him this information and it all just kind of poured out of me.”

“What would you have done if he had ordered me arrested?”

“Honestly?” Curran smiles sadly. “I was calculating how fast I could get back here to warn you to get the hell out of dodge before they came for you. That probably would have gotten me fired real fast, let me tell you.”

Heinwald has always chosen his words carefully, despite what Curran often told him, so it’s a surprise to them both when the next thing he says is “You should live here.”

Curran, of course, turns red. “What? Where did _that_ come from?”

“You are now officially supposed to supervise me, are you not? It is not as if you do not spend most of your time here already.”

“Y-Yeah, but-”

“I see no reason you should pay for a room you rarely use, particularly if supervising me has become a part of your job.” When he had first had these thoughts so very long ago, he never would have expected actually saying them out _loud._

“The church pays for it,” Curran mumbles, though it’s clearly simply for the sake of clarifying facts as opposed to an actual protest.

“That does not make it less of a waste. This arrangement makes far more sense, does it not?”

“I…” Curran looks away, blush only growing. “I mean, yeah, it does.”

“Then what is the problem?”

When Curran looks up, he looks like he’s realized something. “You know what? Nothing. Nothing is the problem. You’re actually right, for once.”

“I take offense at that.”

“I knew you would,” Curran laughs. The man is so expressive, a stark contrast to Heinwald himself, who Curran has referred to as ‘stone-face and frowny’. The way his smile always lights up his whole face no matter how small it may be, the faint blush still remaining- it’s all very cute.

~~~~~

“You keep sayin’ that!” Notte flaps her wings, puffing out her cheeks. The fairy is normally found beside the prince- at least right up until he does something boring, like strategy meetings with the royal guards and his older sister. It’s not really a surprise that she found her way here. “Cute! Keep callin’ him cute! Cute is like, puppies and kittens and fairies, not big burly hunks like Curran!”

Heinwald bristles until an unexpected ally comes to save him. “That’s too reductive!” Chitose is sitting on a table near the back, Mitsuhide beside him, seemingly asleep. It’s really a wonder that Hinomoto functions at all. “Cuteness doesn’t have to be universal!”

“Yeah, but _Curran?_ ” The urge is overpowering but it might not be well-received if Heinwald swats the fairy out of the sky. “Mister tries to be smooth but can’t even talk right?” There’s a book nearby, and Heinwald is confident in his ability to aim. 

“Sometimes the difference is what makes it cute!” Chitose crosses his arms across his chest with a _harrumph._ “You normally see him putting up a front, all suave and such, right? Then one day, bam! You say something that makes him all embarrassed and it _really_ shows on his face, more than you’d expect it to considering how confident he normally is. It’s the gap!”

“Gap? Man, what are you talking about? His teeth are fine!” 

“The gap between expectation and reality,” Mitsuhide mumbles, possibly in her sleep. Chitose nods in agreement.

“I still don’t see it but you’re the expert.”

“Perhaps you can assist Notte?” Naveed chimes in. “Offer an example.”

Heinwald considers that. An example of Curran being cute… “I believe I know just the thing.”

~~~~~

They're on the couch, Curran underneath him, and the whole thing's a bit cramped. Still, it's the last thing on Heinwald's mind at the moment. The inquisitor is mostly undressed, his shirt rucked up almost all the way to his neck, chest exposed, save for what is concealed beneath Heinwald's hands. 

He had been expecting them to be firmer, a thought that seems ridiculous in hindsight. It's still just flesh and muscle. There's an unexpected softness to them where his fingers sink in, just enough to _squeeze._ As such, that is what he's currently preoccupied with, and it doesn't quite seem like Curran is about to complain. Quite the contrary. The man has his head tipped back against the cushion, eyes half-lidded, mouth open and panting. The most obvious sign would be the way the inquisitor is grinding up against him. His legs are parted to leave room for the mage and he can't help but think it's reminiscent of a much different and as of yet unexplored scenario. 

Clearly, he's not the only one. "Heinwald," Curran gasps, a hand coming up to tap the man on the shoulder. _Reel it back in for a second,_ the gesture asks. Heinwald pauses, hips and hands alike, though he refuses to remove his hands altogether. His partner takes a second to calm as much as he can before speaking again. "Do you want to… have sex?"

Heinwald blinks. "Are we not currently?"

That makes Curran laugh, somewhat breathlessly. "Fair enough. I should have been more specific. I mean… all the way."

"Penetrative sex," Heinwald clarifies, and Curran gives a small nod in response.

"You could try to make it sound a little sexier, you know."

Somewhere, he thinks he read about this, and gathers the memories from deep within his mind. "Would you like me to shove my fat cock-" 

That's as far as he gets before Curran is pushing him away hard enough to give him the room required to roll off the couch and onto the floor, body shaking with laughter. "No, nevermind, _please_ never make me hear you say anything remotely like that again."

A bit miffed, Heinwald rolls over as well, climbing much more carefully onto the floor to cover the other man, draping himself over the larger body until no space remains between them. Curran’s laughter chokes off into a gasp. The mage slips his hands beneath the other's chest, coming to rest where they had latched on before. "You were saying?"

"Not here," Curran huffs. "Not on the damn floor."

Before Heinwald stands, he grabs onto the hem of Curran’s shirt and pulls it upwards, finally removing it after some awkward maneuvering. Once he's back on two feet he extends a hand out to Curran to help the man onto his own. They don't have to talk about where they're going- though he does have a room of his own, the inquisitor spends far more time in Heinwald’s, returning to his for nothing beyond sleep and changing clothes. 

There’s an awkward moment of silence once they get inside where Curran takes the rest of his clothes off and Heinwald realizes that, despite everything, he’s never actually _seen_ the man entirely naked before. He’s fully prepared to just climb on the bed with all his clothes on himself but Curran stops him, a hand pulling at his coat. “Really, Heinwald? Don’t tell me you’re planning on keeping all this on.”

The mage looks down at his clothes. “Should I not?”

“It’s kind of…” Curran trails off, an expectant look on his face, one Heinwald answers with a blank one of his own. “Okay, let me try this again. Do you _want_ to keep it on?”

“It does not seem like removing all of my clothes is a necessary requirement for the ensuing activities.”

Curran drops his head against Heinwald’s shoulder with a frustrated sigh. “Yes or no.”

Instead of words, Heinwald just sort of shrugs. He trusts Curran enough to get the message.

It appears that Curran certainly has a preference based on the way he then sets about divesting Heinwald of his wardrobe. “I’ve never seen what you look like under this, you know.”

“You’ve seen my forearms,” Heinwald protests. Sometimes it gets hot and he rolls up his sleeves.

For whatever reason, Curran seems to find that amusing. “Yeah,” he laughs, “but it feels a bit weird that I’ve seen what your dick looks like before your _ankles_.”

“Hmm,” Heinwald ponders. “I suppose so.”

Curran sure is taking his sweet time, running fingers along the stitches as he finds them, pressing soft kisses to the newly revealed skin. _Every_ inch of skin. When Curran moves up a leg and places a gentle kiss to the shaft of his cock Heinwald fists a hand in the man’s hair and yanks his head back, revealing a mischievous grin. “If you’re so set on distracting me I could always fuck your mouth again,” Heinwald offers, a shiver of pleasure running up his spine at the way Curran’s eyes dilate. 

It’s not often that Heinwald curses his lack of physical strength. Right now, he wishes he had some of Curran’s muscle, if only to be able to lift the man up and drop him on the bed himself. “Maybe later,” the inquisitor murmurs, finally standing, and then they’re both moving onto the bed.

Unexpectedly, they just sort of sit on it together, staring at each other. Heinwald could certainly say or do something to start it but the longer he just looks at Curran the redder he gets and it’s really quite adorable. “Uh,” Curran eventually croaks, clearing his throat after. “So how is this going down?”

“I believe it would be most comfortable if you were on your hands and knees,” Heinwald recites. “A basic position.”

“Alright.” Curran is _incredibly_ stiff, and not in the fun way. “You uh. Get the stuff then.”

Heinwald does ‘get the stuff’, crawling across the bed to a small table that sits beside it, pulling open the drawer and pulling out the bottle of oil they’ve been using to ease the way for much smaller insertions. It’s not typical oil, much thicker and viscous than usual, and it does the trick wonderfully. By the time he gets back Curran is at least sort of in the right pose- he’s sitting up with his legs folded under him, hands gripping the sheets. “If you’re having second thoughts-”

“No.” Curran shakes his head slowly. “Sorry. I’m not, it’s just. Weird.”

“Weird,” Heinwald echos, splaying a hand between Curran’s shoulder blades and pressing him forwards and down. Curran goes, finally dipping his chest down to the bed, unfolding his legs until he’s on his hands and knees. Heinwald immediately drapes himself over the other man’s body and slides his hands back to his chest. “Do tell me if you change your mind at any point.”

“I sort of get the feeling my shirts are going to start mysteriously disappearing,” Curran mutters.

“You’re far too tense.” Heinwald is checking thoroughly. “I will not proceed if you cannot relax and risk harming you.”

“I know!” Curran protests, head hanging down. “I can’t just magically turn my brain off, you know.”

“Oh?” Heinwald pulls back, dragging his hands along Curran’s body as he goes. “If overthinking things seems to be the issue, perhaps I can assist you with that.” He sits back on his heels, grabbing the bottle and popping off the top.

“Heinwald if you _actually_ use some sort of ma-” Curran’s word cuts off into a gasp as he feels the cool oil hit the top of his ass, sliding down between the cheeks, soon followed by fingers. “Oh, okay,” he exhales. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Spread your legs more,” Heinwald murmurs, and Curran obeys. With one hand he traces the oil down, fingertips catching it before more drips down past the inquisitor’s entrance. His other rests just above his tailbone, rubbing soothing circles into his partner’s waist. The hand below presses gently, tracing the puckered circle, massaging at it but not pushing inside. He moves slowly; he knows Curran, knows that soon enough he’ll be pushing back against him, begging for more. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Curran sighs. The front of his body is starting to droop lower as he relaxes. They’ve been in this position before but never quite for the same end goal. “Much better.”

It doesn’t take long, the familiarity of the situation going a long way to relax the inquisitor, and soon enough he’s arching backwards, seeking out the contact. When Heinwald slides his fingers inside they go in without resistance and Curran makes a pleased noise. The tension is mostly gone, Curran softening nicely around him; he pours out more of the oil, pushing it inside the man, coating him inside. As his fingers push in he drags them over Curran’s prostate, just enough to tease. "C'mon," the inquisitor mumbles. 

"Is there something you want to ask me?" Heinwald is pushing fingers in and out, intentionally avoiding contact with the prostate. "I cannot read your mind, Curran."

"I'm mostly thinking about murdering you if you don't actually do something soon," Curran helpfully explains.

"Hmm." He stops, now, rubbing the tips of his fingers across the gland, gently pushing downwards. "Like this?" Before waiting for an answer, Heinwald repeats the motions, over and over until a reply is forced out of his partner.

" _Yes,_ " Curran hisses. 

So Heinwald continues. He starts more properly fucking the man with his fingers, pushing them just deep enough to reach and massage his prostate before pulling them back out. Every time he reaches that spot inside Curran it punches a moan out of him. 

For his part, Curran is going boneless, all tension melting out of him. His arms are folding down, bringing his shoulders nearly to the bed, ass in the air. 

A magnificent sight, truly.

Heinwald finds that he himself is losing patience with this. When he takes his fingers out and Curran’s hips move backwards, chasing them, he knows he’s ready.

Heinwald coats himself with the oil as well before moving into place, pressing the head of his cock against Curran’s hole. “Still good?” he asks.

“Y-Yeah,” Curran answers. “Go ahead.”

When he moves, it’s slowly, pressing inside of Curran as carefully as possible. The man parts for him so easily it’s almost a shock. A full body shudder goes through Curran once the head pops inside and Heinwald pauses. “Are you okay?”

Curran has his head hidden in the pillows and sheets. “It feels weird,” he murmurs. “Not bad. Just different. Way larger.”

“Well then,” Heinwald comments, thrusting forward and burying himself to the hilt.

The noise that comes out of Curran is probably best described as a strangled yelp, his head shooting up in surprise. He looks back over his shoulder at Heinwald with a glare. “Heinwald, I swear to Ilia-”

“It seemed best to get it over with, like ripping off a bandage. You appeared to be relaxed enough to accommodate.”

“You need to _not_ move for at least a minute and let me get used to this or I’m going to rip your balls off and shove them straight down your throat.”

“That was uncalled for,” Heinwald sniffs. Curran is more than capable of ‘getting used to it’ as the act itself progresses though from the dark look the man is giving him, proving as much would backfire something fierce. “Very well. Please inform me when you are ready to continue, though I must ask that you are sure of your decision before saying as much, as I am not entirely sure it will be easy for me to stop once we have started.”

Curran _tightens_ around him when he says that and he really does consider just going ahead with it despite Curran’s request. But Curran asked him to, so wait he shall. “Yup,” Curran rasps, his voice strangely fractured. “Got it.”

There’s nothing much to do at the moment beyond very aggressively ignoring how every nerve in his body is telling him to _move,_ so Heinwald leans forwards again, over Curran’s back, hands on his chest where he thinks he’d really like to leave them for a very long time. Curran lets out an irritated grunt- this technically counts as moving, Heinwald supposes- but when Heinwald places his lips to the man’s neck the inquisitor tips his head forwards, further exposing the tantalizing arch. It’s easy to focus on that stretch of skin instead of the tantalizing, delicious heat surrounding him- neck, focus on the neck. Heinwald parts his lips, opens his teeth and bites down, just barely, the way he knows Curran likes. He is rewarded with a muffled moan.

“Okay,” Curran mumbles. “You can move.”

Where he is is quite pleasant so Heinwald barely pulls back, grinding his dick into Curran, pressing kisses and bites along his neck. “This is nice,” he comments.

Beneath him, Curran is starting to squirm. “Move more than that,” the man actually _whines._

Obviously, Heinwald is incapable of denying him. So he sits back up, places his hands on Curran’s hips, and this time thrusts properly.

The first time he fucks into Curran the man makes a high noise, the sort that rarely escapes him. Heinwald has made every effort to draw the unusual noises out of his partner but nothing really seems to do it consistently. If he had known all it took was just shoving his cock inside of the inquisitor he would have started doing this _ages_ ago. Another thrust confirms that was not yet another fluke and then Curran seems to have bitten down into the sheets to muffle further sounds. 

It feels… indescribable, almost. It’s warm with just the right amount of friction and the way it makes Curran bow his back, tilting his hips up to change the angle and then moving back to meet him. Even muffled Curran is making so many _sounds,_ delicious little gasps and moans, but he’s buried his head well into the sheets and as much as Heinwald enjoys the sight of the broad back, the way the back of his neck reddens both with a flush and from the attention Heinwald had given it, he really wishes he could just see the man’s _face-_

_Oh,_ Heinwald thinks to himself. _I have just the solution._

Heinwald slides his arms up higher, underneath Curran’s chest, landing flat where they always do but for a different reason. Summoning all the strength he has he pulls Curran upwards, falling back onto the bed with his legs bent back to his sides, a very shocked Curran seated in his lap. He’s very proud that he managed to stay inside of Curran the entire time. “Heinwald?” Curran manages to get out.

“Is this not better?” Heinwald certainly thinks it is; he has a much better view of Curran’s face this way, despite the fact that the man is still turned away from him. The inquisitor shifts himself, settling into the new position.

“Straighten your legs out,” Curran asks, and once they are out of the way his own legs settle in and bracket Heinwald’s thighs. Testing, he raises himself up and drops down and- “Ah!”

Curran’s hand flies to his mouth, where Heinwald promptly pries it away. “None of that,” he chastises. Clearly this angle is satisfactory for his partner. “How does it feel?” He’s shifting his own legs, planting his feet on the bed and his hands behind him to give him enough leverage to thrust up into Curran.

“D-Deeper,” Curran gasps. He’s raising and dropping his hips now, faster, clearly enjoying the feeling. “It, ah! It’s hitting-”

“Your prostate,” Heinwald finishes. “Yes, I thought this position would be good for that.”

“Less bragging, more fucking,” Curran growls, and every single unrelated thought Heinwald has had in his entire lifetime evaporates on the spot. 

It’s almost impossible for the mage to keep up with Curran’s pace _or_ stamina, so Heinwald decides to put his talents to better use. He sits back fully upright, pulling Curran flush against his chest, one hand wrapping around his cock and the other curling around his chin. Tilting the man’s head away, Heinwald licks a strip up his neck, biting the hinge of his jaw, pressing lips to his ear. “Go ahead,” Heinwald whispers to him. “Take what you need.” He holds his hand steady, curled into a fist for Curran to fuck into as he moves his hips between the two points of contact.

“Lazy… bastard…” Curran laughs, far too taunting for one in his position. It’s a simple matter to slide his fingers up and into that smart mouth, shutting him up for good.

_That contradicts your earlier actions!_ some insufferable part of his brain tells him, and he promptly sends a _fuck off_ right back. The only logic that matters right now is how to keep Curran moving like this, moaning around his fingers, fucking himself on his cock like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. Maybe it is. It’s certainly the best thing _Heinwald’s_ ever felt. Warmth is pooling, somewhere inside of him, running through his veins. The feeling of Curran around his cock seems almost incidental to the pleasure he gets from simply watching the other man, the way his eyes flutter shut in pleasure, the way his chest heaves and he pants with exertion, the trail of drool slipping out of his mouth and running down his chin, the wetness leaking from his cock and coating the slippery tunnel of Heinwald’s fingers, the teeth biting gently at Heinwald’s fingers until he removes them, the way his voice hitches when he tries to speak and all that comes out is “I’m-”

The physical pleasure feels a whole lot less incidental when Curran stutters and stops and comes over the sheets with a cry, clenching and unclenching around Heinwald in a way that feels like far too much and far too little all at once and overall impossible to handle until he fits his teeth at the junction between neck and shoulder and _bites,_ hard enough to leave a mark. He doesn’t miss how the action sends another spurt of semen out of Curran’s cock and the thought that his _teeth_ did that is all it takes for him to come undone as well.

Curran falls forward and Heinwald almost falls backward and off the bed entirely before correcting and falling to the side instead. It takes what feels like forever for him to catch his breath, finally sitting up and peering down at Curran.

The inquisitor is fast asleep, laying directly over the wet spot he created himself in the bed. Heinwald would move him but it feels like every muscle in his body is limp and useless. He barely manages to crawl up next to Curran himself before falling asleep beside him.

When he wakes up in the morning alone something cold shivers through him, but a quick look around the room sees that Curran has cleaned up after them and even pulled out sleeping clothes for Heinwald. An odd choice, considering the rays of morning sun he spies coming through the window. He puts them on regardless and sets out to find his partner.

Curran is in the study with some tea, looking rather pale. Upon Heinwald’s entrance he glances up and grunts out a ‘good morning’. 

It’s very easy for them to just fall back into their regular routine so Heinwald refuses to allow them to do so. They have tried something new and he _demands answers._ “What did you think about last night?”

“I _think_ you’re never allowed to let me fall asleep without cleaning up afterwards again.”

“What was I to do? Drag you to the bathroom myself?”

“Just slap me around a bit until I wake up.”

“So it was good?”

Curran is reddening. “Should have known you wouldn’t let me get away with leaving the obvious unsaid.”

“Then we are in agreement,” Heinwald declares with a confident nod. 

“I could write you a report on it if you want.”

“Oh, that would be most helpful-” Heinwald is cut off by Curran leaning over the low table between them and kissing him, licking into his mouth when the mage’s parts with surprise.

All at once, Curran jerks back, eyes wide like he even surprised himself. “I’m sorry, we’ve never- was that okay?”

Heinwald thinks for less than a second. “Yes,” he decides, climbing over the table and on top of Curran to press him down into the couch and-

~~~~~

“ _What?”_ Elisanne squeaks, interrupting Heinwald. “You two hadn’t even _kissed_ yet?”

“Not before that point,” Heinwald confirms. “Is that unusual?” Ranzal is laughing like it is.

Naveed is rubbing at his temples. “That wasn’t quite what I had in mind but I would be lying if I said I was surprised,” he mutters. 

Next to Elisanne, Vanessa is leaning forward. “Woah, you telling me Curran is the bottom?”

“You are asking if he is the one receiving?” Heinwald clarifies, and Vanessa nods. “Typically, yes. We have experimented with the inverse but have agreed we both prefer the former.”

“Now I’m just _more_ confused!” Notte is frowning. “I don’t think it’d work if I tried to push down Curran like that. How am I supposed to see him being cute _now?_ ”

“When did this turn into you demanding proof?” Mitsuhide yawns. “‘sides, pretty sure Heinwald over there wouldn’t appreciate _anyone_ trying to push down his man.”

Chitose chimes in. “Everyone is cute to the person they love!”

“I _guess_ that makes sense,” the fairy sighs.

“My… man?” Heinwald considers the words. _Is_ Curran his man? What does that even entail?

The lithomancer seems to have recovered at this point. “How would it make you feel if someone else laid with Curran the way you do?”

“Upset,” Heinwald immediately replies. “I’m… not entirely sure why, but I would not enjoy that.”

“It is love,” Naveed murmured. “Not… the sort I’ve been searching for, but love nonetheless.”

Heinwald’s brain slams to a halt. Love? Was he in _love_ with Curran? It is a subject he has not found much information about, nothing more than flowery poems and extended metaphors. Nothing about what the actual _feeling_ is. Curran has said he loves him, before, and the thought of that is pleasant. He enjoys nothing more than spending time with his partner and finds it difficult to even imagine life without him at this point. If he tries to think of what he fears most it’s not his own death, but Curran’s. Anything that took the other man from him would pay dearly for doing so.

“Oh,” he says softly. “I _am_ in love with Curran.”

The room itself seems to inhale and it looks like every single person is about to start talking at once but then the doors swing open, yet another interruption-

-and Curran steps inside, Lathna perched atop his shoulders.

Everyone goes dead silent, even Jupiter, sudden enough that Curran halts in place. “Wow, uh, what’s going on in here? Have any of you see- oh, Heinwald, there you are!” He makes his way over to his partner, unheeding of the way everyone is openly staring at him. “Hey, do you know what’s up with Xander? He stopped me in the halls saying something about ‘the real Curran’. I figured Nyarl would keep him occupied for a while.”

“Ah, yes,” Heinwald replies. “He seems to have misunderstood something.”

Only now does Curran seem to notice the way the crowd is positioned, Heinwald at the front with everyone else stretched out around him. “You telling everyone a story or something?”

“Yes,” Heinwald begins, and he hears several gasps. “Of how we became partners.”

Lathna holds another part of Their whole, and as such she is unusually attuned to Heinwald emotions and can see exactly how this conversation is going to play out. She taps Curran’s shoulder and he lifts her gently, setting her down on the ground. “Oh, the thing with the mage?”

“Partners in the other sense.” 

Curran freezes briefly. “That seems a bit personal, doesn’t it?” Slowly, he looks behind them, out into the crowd where not a single person will meet his gaze. “Heinwald,” he says slowly, turning back to the mage. “What _exactly_ did you tell them?”

“All of it,” Heinwald informs him.

“And when you say all you can’t possibly mean when you… asked me…”

“Of course! Along with the incident with the spell, and then the first time we-”

Curran clamps a hand over Heinwald’s mouth before he can continue. The inquisitor has turned a violent shade of red, eyes wide with shock, stammering so badly he can’t even get a word out properly.

It’s Notte that breaks the tension. “Oh!” she chirps excitedly. “ _Now_ I see it!”

The room surges into movement, filled with the sound of excuses being made about how everyone inside it simply _has_ to go attend to this _terribly urgent_ manner _right this second_ and it’s honestly a miracle no one is trampled in the stampede for the door. In a surprisingly short span of time the library is emptied of everyone save Heinwald, Curran and Lathna.

Well, and Jupiter, who remains on his makeshift nest of books, looking at Heinwald expectantly. “Heinwald,” Curran says, voice low. “When I take my hand off of your mouth you’re going to reassure me that you did _not_ just go into _explicit detail_ about our sex life to half the Halidom.”

The hand is removed. “Would you like me to lie?”

“Human!” Jupiter booms. “Please continue! Tell me more so I may fling it back in the inquisitor’s face when he dares to raise his axe against me next!”

“I’m going to kill both of you,” Curran growls, and Heinwald can at least recognize that this is a bad time to point out how hot he looks when he does that.

Curran is angry.

They’re in their room at the Halidom- ever since joining up with Euden they’ve all but moved in, particularly since Jupiter was prone to tantrums and they were both on the short list of people to take care of _that_ issue. Heinwald is more than happy to peruse the vast new library within and Curran is happy to be around other members of the church that aren’t so… fervent. Even the most devout followers here like Hildegard are still willing to listen to reason, a quality Curran has mentioned a great deal of inquisitors seem to lack. He mentions that a great deal, in fact, once the drink starts flowing. Heinwald had once made the mistake of asking why Curran even works for the church if he seems to hate almost everyone inside of it and was treated to a long and rambling diatribe about what the church stands for and how great the Goddess Herself is. He sat through it mostly because Curran is cute when he’s speaking about something he has a lot of passion for and partly because he loves the man and it would have been rude to leave halfway.

Right, the love thing. He should bring that up but this would certainly be a bad time. Curran has his arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes closed and brows furrowed, looking like he’s trying very very hard to calm himself. It’s better than being attacked immediately like Curran would have done years ago.

After a while, Curran opens his eyes. “Explain.”

“Explain what?”

“I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt so please explain _why_ you thought it was okay to tell everyone what you did.”

Heinwald blinks. “I was asked a question so I answered it. You can never know what details may become important later so it is best to leave none out.”

Tonight, Lathna is elsewhere, at some sort of slumber party Euden has arranged for the children of the castle, so they are able to discuss the matter freely. “I can promise you that if the question was anything other than ‘how’s the sex between you and Curran’ that is _not_ the answer that they wanted.”

“It is the truth.”

Curran heaves out a frustrated sigh, burying his face in his hands. “Sometimes I feel like you don’t know how to be a human.”

That’s somewhat insulting- Heinwald is _mostly_ human, after all. “I simply do not see the issue.”

“Look-” Curran drops his hands to his sides. “Some things are just… private. You don’t go around sharing them with others all willy-nilly.” The expression on Heinwald’s face must show that he still doesn’t really understand because Curran adopts the tone he uses when he’s explaining something to Heinwald that should, apparently, be obvious. He likes to call these moments ‘human lessons’. “Okay, why do people wear clothes?”

“Because that is the socially acceptable thing to do.”

“Try again.”

“Because… it is fashionable?”

“ _Heinwald.”_

“Aha! To hide their naked bodies.”

“ _There_ you go. And why would people do that?”

“Because…” Heinwald frowns, thinking. It must all be tied together if Curran is leading with this. “That is… private? They don’t want other people to see?”

“Bingo.” Curran, thankfully, knows Heinwald well enough to explain the next part on his own. “Being naked is… vulnerable. Mentally _and_ physically. There’s nothing protecting you anymore and maybe you don’t want everyone to see what every inch of your body looks like, you know?”

“So people cover it,” Heinwald finishes. “I see. That does make sense.”

“Alright, so if being naked is private, what does that make the activities you do while naked?”

“Ah,” Heinwald murmurs. “I see the issue now.”

“You’re impossible sometimes.” Curran sits down heavily into a chair. “Is that something you _want_ everyone to know?”

“Is it not commonplaces for comrades to share stories of things they enjoy?”

“Hein. Things like _hobbies._ Not the first time you jacked me off on the sofa.”

“What if I consider that my hobby?”

“Please stop talking,” Curran groans. “Uh, let me try this. How… would you feel if someone else saw it firsthand?”

The force of the anger that hits Heinwald catches him off guard and he urges himself to calm. “Most displeased.”

“So then why would you _tell_ someone about it?”

“They will never get the chance to see it for themselves so the least I can do is tell them what they’re missing.”

“I changed my mind.” Curran’s voice is muffled as he seems to have put his head in his hands again. Based on his ears, he seems to be blushing. “You’re not impossible, you’re insufferable.”

His ears really are quite red. Heinwald thinks he’d like to bite one but that likely would not be well received at the moment. “You are… not angry?”

“I’m upset,” Curran clarifies, revealing his face once more. “I can’t… really be upset at _you,_ though. It’s not like you knew what you were doing was bad- it’d just be a waste of energy at this point. Just don’t do it again, alright?”

This particular section of the conversation seems to be ending, giving Heinwald the opening he needed. But first there was something else he had wanted to ask. “You were looking for me, earlier. What did you require?”

“Oh yeah!” Curran stands back up and moves around the room, rifling through the papers scattered throughout the area. “Where was it… here!” A yellow flyer is clasped between his hands and he hands it to Heinwald.

A quick scan reveals it to be speaking of some sort of event in a nearby village. “A festival?”

“Lathna looked really excited when she found it so I was thinking we should take her. It’s a tradition that made its way over from Hinamoto, apparently.”

There are people drawn on the flyer dressed in clothes Heinwald does not recognize. “What manner of garb is this?”

“Something called a yukata. Thought it’d be nice to try to get one for her. Maybe Cleo could help us out?”

The clothes look quite easy to remove. Curran has a habit of wearing shirts that close at the front and not doing them up all the way, so with something like this it would not be out of character to see him wearing it open all the way down to his belly button, revealing a tantalizing stretch of skin. “Perhaps you as well.”

“Insufferable,” Curran repeats, like he’s read Heinwald’s mind. “Eh, I’m not against it, anyways.”

“It does seem like a good idea,” Heinwald finally properly replies. “If we have the time free we should certainly attend.”

“Perfect!” Curran takes the flyer back. “I’ll try to track down Cleo tomorrow. Even if she can’t help with the clothes directly she should know who can.” The inquisitor is looking down at the flyer with a smile on his face, so obviously pleased with Heinwald’s answer that he can’t possibly say anything other than what he says next.

“Ah,” Heinwald says. “That’s right. Curran, I love you.”

The flyer falls out of his hands and slowly floats down to the floor. Curran sort of looks like his brain has stopped working, his mouth opening and closing and opening again like none of the words are forming properly. Eventually he looks up at Heinwald and just says ‘Huh?”

Heinwald frowns- this had not been the reaction he expected. “Is it so shocking to hear? You’ve said it to me many times.”

The words seem to finally register and Curran turns _scarlet._ “I- uh- I mean I-” He closes his mouth and tries again. “I don’t know! I guess I just kind of thought you didn’t really _do_ that emotion?”

Admittedly, neither did Heinwald, but Curran doesn’t have to know that. “Did that not bother you?”

“No?” Curran scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, you clearly like being with me, and it’s not like our relationship is contingent on you being capable of the same feelings I am. I love you,” and he makes a gesture like he’s talking about all of Heinwald, “quirks and all. Doesn’t really matter to me if you can’t return the exact same feelings back to me as long as you just _stay._ ”

Heinwald stands abruptly, peeling off his coat and draping it over a nearby chair. He’s started on his shirt when Curran finally speaks up. “You undressing for a reason there, buddy?”

“I would like to fuck you,” Heinwald announces.

“You’re the _least_ sexy person in the _world,_ ” Curran mutters but he’s also unbuckling the belt of his inquisitor’s uniform, directly contradicting himself in the process.

“This is typical after a heartfelt confession, is it not?”

“I mean, it’s not unusual, no.” It’s sort of cute how carefully Curran is folding the shirt before he sets it on a table. “Probably more passionate than whatever this is.”

“If it makes you feel any better I am simply physically incapable of throwing you down on the bed and ravishing you. Though I could use Call of Chaos if you are particularly attached to the-”

“Nope!” Curran interrupts. “We’ve been over this, no more spells from the void in bed. Now come here.”

Once they’re on the bed, Heinwald flops on top of Curran mostly as a form of protest. “I’ve told you many times, I’ve spoken with the otherworldly being and they have promised to behave.”

“If you keep saying that, eventually I’m going to have to ask _how_ exactly you managed to speak to it instead of looking the other way, you know.”

“You enjoyed it.”

Curran answers with a wicked grin. “Then I guess you’ll just have to do an even better job yourself.”

“A challenge, hmm?” Heinwald had made sure to drape himself over his partner in a way that left his mouth right next to one of his ears. “May want to reconsider that,” he warns, biting at the shell of Curran’s ear.

“You gonna make me eat my words?”

“You cannot eat words, they are merely an abstract concept-”

Curran pushes Heinwald away by the shoulders. “If you keep talking like that I’m going to find a way to shut you up.”

The mage removes Curran’s hands from his shoulders, leaning back down to press kisses along his jaw. “Strong words for someone as terribly sensitive as you are.” He drags thumbs over each of Curran’s nipples to punctuate the statement.

His partner shivers beneath him. “That’s your fault, you know.”

“Is it?” Heinwald kisses down his neck now, rubbing circles with his thumbs. “You were wonderfully receptive from the very beginning, if I recall.”

“Yeah, well, you made it worse.” Curran’s legs fall open, making room for Heinwald to slot between them, head tipping back against the pillow. “Probably.”

It isn’t words that Heinwald answers with, more of a noise of affirmation. He travels lower until he wraps his lips around a peaked nipple and sucks, pinching the other between his fingers. Curran arches up into it and pats the top of his partner’s head. “None of that,” he grunts.

“Why not?” It feels like they have this conversation many, many times. Despite not wanting to, Heinwald stops what he is doing. “As I said, you are very sensitive. I would like to see if you are able to achieve orgasm from this stimulation alone despite not being female.”

“That,” Curran groans, batting Heinwald’s hands away from his chest. “That’s why. You’ve got some weird fixation with my chest and I don’t want to encourage it.”

“It’s not weird at all,” Heinwald protests. “In fact, I now know for certain that-”

“If you’re about to bring up other people right now I’m going to kick you out and make you spend the night in Nyarlathotep’s nest.”

Heinwald, wisely, remains silent.

It’s Curran who moves next, reaching down and gathering them both into his much larger hand. “C’mere,” he murmurs, putting a finger underneath Heinwald’s chin and urging him upwards into a kiss. The mage wraps his own hand around Curran’s and follows his movements, the lazy push and pull together as they swell and harden beneath fingers. Soon they’re both bucking into it, the kiss growing teeth, Curran pulling away just before Heinwald is consumed with the urge to bite. 

“Can you-” Heinwald gasps, eyes fluttering closed as Curran presses a thumb beneath the head of his cock. In retaliation he releases them and slides both hands over Curran’s hips and below, grabbing the globes of his ass and squeezing.

“Yeah,” Curran nods. His voice sounds breathy. He too releases them and twists to the side, rolling far enough to be able to reach the bedside table next to them, returning with a familiar bottle. When he tries to roll back onto his back Heinwald stops him. “You sure?” he asks with raised eyebrows. “Didn’t work great last time.”

“I adapted then and I can adapt now if needed.”

“Alright,” Curran murmurs, pulling his leg up towards his chest. Heinwald is the one guiding the movements but it’s Curran who lifts the limb himself, higher and higher until his ankle is hooked over Heinwald’s shoulder. “Too heavy?”

It is _absolutely_ too heavy but Heinwald can handle it for some time, particularly when it earns him this rare sight. Curran’s profile is as sculpted and stunning as he is from every other angle (something Heinwald will _never_ admit to the man lest his ego grow too large), though Heinwald’s favorite thing about this position is how he has access to nearly all of the man’s body, only his side pressed into the bed. It also shows off just how flexible the man is. Last time they had tried this it was essentially a battle of Curran’s sensitivity versus Heinwald’s stamina. “I’ve been doing some exercises,” Heinwald tells him, pressing some of the oil inside of the other man and then to himself as he speaks. “I should be stronger than the last time.”

Curran has this look on his face like he doesn’t believe a word of that so Heinwald takes this opportunity to press inside the other man, wiping that expression away and changing it to something much more pleasurable. The inquisitor always looks so content when Heinwald first fills him, eyes half-lidded and mouth barely open, like he’s lost in the sensation. This moment, this picture, he refuses to show anyone.

A thought strikes him, that maybe that’s how Curran feels about _all_ the times they’ve done this, and it’s enough to start him thrusting into the man below him. He can't help but run his fingers along every inch of flesh bared before him. 

Despite its strengths this position _is_ a bit awkward, particularly because Curran is so muscular. Heinwald can’t thrust as deep as he can in other positions but it is still deep enough. Every time he moves forwards Curran rocks his hips back so the head of Heinwald’s cock drags along his prostate. The noises Curran makes are quieter like this, more gentle gasps and pants of pleasure than the louder moans he makes otherwise. 

“You good?” Curran pants, eyes cracking open to peer up at the man fucking him. The fact that he even has the presence of mind to be concerned at a time like this is incredibly impressive.

Heinwald leans forward, bracing one hand on either side of Curran’s torso and folding the leg up between them. This was a solution he had brainstormed since the last time he had tried this. “Easier like this.”

“Hold on,” Curran exhales. “Let me-” He rolls his body over, not entirely flat on his back but somewhere in between. “Sorry. Even I’m not _that_ flexible.”

_This is fine,_ Heinwald thinks to himself, taking in the man below him. Moving like that has spread his legs and seems like it would be difficult to hold for an extended period of time. Who will give in first? “Let’s find out,” Heinwald wonders aloud.

“What are you-” Curran’s question is cut short when Heinwald fucks into him, turning the words into a gasp. “O-Oh,” he stutters. 

Something about his position makes the angle easier for Heinwald to work with. He’s thrusting sort of to the side instead of upwards but Curran is pinned to the point where he doesn’t have to deal with the man’s legs wrapping around him like a vice grip, something that normally impedes his progress considerably. “I quite like this,” he decides. “You’re not getting in the way.”

“I f-feel like I should- ah!” Curran is trying to reply but it seems difficult for him to string together sentences at the moment. “Be offended by that.”

“Nonsense.” Curran is trying to move his hips and he is, to an extent, though for the most part he is entirely at Heinwald’s mercy. “Perhaps I should try tying you up in the future.”

“D-Don’t you dare.” Curran’s eyes narrow but the way his pupils dilate and how he tightens around Heinwald at the words betray his true feelings. Something he’ll need to be persuaded into, then.

“You’d like it.” With the weight of Curran’s leg mostly a non-issue Heinwald is able to move faster now, picking up a rhythm that his partner has trouble keeping up with in his current state.

“Maybe I- fuck, keep doing that- don’t need to know.”

“Why deny yourself?” Heinwald leans closer, lips just beside Curran’s ear, and he continues. “Experimentation is the heart of science, is it not?”

“I-I can’t go back,” Curran groans. It’s remarkable how honest he gets at times like these. “My body-”

“Curran,” Heinwald whispers sweetly. “Are you saying I’ve ruined you for other men?”

The man _moans,_ long and broken. If Curran had been intending to protest that statement it’s all but impossible now. “Shut up and fuck me,” he hisses instead.

Heinwald has never considered himself the type of person who would deny a request like that. All he can think of now is fucking Curran so much that his body will change to accomodate him, it already feels like the man welcomes him so entirely and opens for him so willingly- he’s never really dwelled on what it would be like to become Whole again but if They had Their body back oh the _things_ he could do to Curran, the feelings and sensations They could show him, mold him to Their liking and give him anything he ever could have wanted, all he has to do is lay there and accept Them-

With a snarl, Heinwald pushes the thoughts out of his mind. He’s more vulnerable in a state of heightened emotion and while They would never force him to return to Them, all it takes is one slip of control, one carefully worded persuasion before something is done that can never be taken back. The man beneath him, panting and moaning and arching beautifully, Curran could be his _forever_ if he let Them help.

But Curran would never want that, and Heinwald’s not entirely sure _he’d_ want that either. 

Curran has an arm hooked over and clinging to the side of the bed to hold his position, muscles straining with the effort. It seems that he's focused mostly on that which gives Heinwald, for once, full control over the pace. Greedy fingers roam over the inquisitor’s body, hands moving upwards and rubbing over nipples, ripping a keening noise out of Curran as he throws his head back into the pillows. It's so obvious that the man likes this, Heinwald is truly baffled by his strange resistance to this sort of simulation. Could it be a matter of pride? A somewhat nonsensical reason, but-

It's likely Curran can tell Heinwald is drifting because the hand formerly anchoring his partner in place has found a new home clutching Heinwald’s hair, wrenching him down into a kiss that's all lips and tongue and _teeth._ The urge to mark the man and lay his claim is still pulsing through Heinwald so he breaks away and leaves marks all along his jaw, following the curve of it to his neck and down that, leaving the imprint of teeth as he goes. Not enough to bleed- never enough to bleed, but enough to make it clear to Them who Curran truly belongs to. Unconsciously, Heinwald starts thrusting in faster.

Though his upper body has twisted to lay nearly flat against the bed Curran keeps his hips tilted as before and his hands are buried in the sheets, gripping so tightly that Heinwald wouldn't be surprised to find tears in them later. He’s making no moves to take control back and the fact that he trusts Heinwald enough to submit to him like this, that fact that he _likes_ it? Heinwald shivers at the thought. "Heinwald," Curran whines, and when the mage looks up he sees tears at the corners of the inquisitor’s eyes, not from sadness but from pleasure. 

He surges up and kisses Curran, swallowing down his cries, grinding into him until he tenses and comes between them.

His partner makes high noises of overstimulation and Heinwald nearly pulls out, except there’s a hand curling around his waist and urging him to continue. That alone is enough to send Heinwald shuddering forwards and coming deep inside his partner’s body.

They lay there, intertwined and panting, and it would be so easy to just fall asleep like this. But Heinwald made a promise, long ago. “Bathroom,” he reminds Curran.

“y’go first,” the inquisitor murmurs. Heinwald knows he’ll be asleep by the time he gets back. 

No matter. He will wake the man if he has to.

Despite neither of them falling asleep in this position Heinwald still wakes up stretched across Curran’s sleeping form. As carefully as he can he slides off and starts trying to clean up the area somewhat. 

Something catches his eye- an envelope, slipped under the door at some point during the night. He can sense no mana attached to it so if it is a trap it won’t be a particularly effective one. Upon closer inspection it seems to be nothing more than a letter.

_Heinwald,_ it begins, written in a beautiful cursive script. _I apologize if I am overstepping my bounds by offering this._

“Whazzat?” Curran mumbles, apparently awake. He’s flopped over onto his stomach with an arm hanging over the side of the bed.

“Someone has left me a letter,” Heinwald explains.

He continues reading. _You mentioned being unable to heal without stealing life force from an outside source. I believe I may be of some assistance in this matter. There are some minor healing spells I have created that anyone who can manipulate mana should be capable of utilizing, and you may find them to be uniquely helpful to your situation. If you would be interested in learning, feel free to call on me at any time._ At the bottom the letter is signed _Vixel._

“It’s from Vixel,” Heinwald adds, handing the paper over to Curran. “He’s offered to teach me basic healing spells.”

“A very specific kind, by the sound of it.” Curran folds up the letter after reading it and puts it on the table. “Man, I knew Fritz was all about knives, but I didn’t think it’d extend to the bedroom too.”

“Fritz?”

Curran has shifted, now hanging both of his arms off the side of the bed in a way that can’t possibly be comfortable. “Why are you surprised? Did you seriously not know they were a thing?”

“You know very well I am not particularly observant of romantic couplings.”

“Or love in general,” Curran agrees. “Remember when I told you to solve the mystery of love and you nearly married some poor random woman?” He pauses for a moment. “Come to think of it, that was probably when I came to terms with the fact that you’d never really get it.”

“And yet I exceeded your expectations.”

“Can’t exceed what doesn’t exist.” Heinwald kind of wants to throw something at him. “Man, you probably have no idea about all the kinds of stuff people get up to in here.”

“I do not amuse myself with petty gossip,” Heinwald sniffs.

“No wonder they all come to me,” Curran mutters, and Heinwald stiffens.

“In what way do you mean?”

“Woah, hold on.” Curran is holding his hands up placatingly. “You know that same-sex relationships are much less common, right?” Heinwald nods. “And we’ve always been open about being in a relationship from the beginning?” Another nod. “So every single time someone has love trouble in this particular category, they all come talking to me.”

Heinwald finds he’s quite insulted that no one thought to ask _him_ for assistance so he snaps back. “They come to _you_ for advice?”

Curran shoots him an unimpressed look. “Yeah? You think they’re going to talk to the creepy aloof dude who made Maribelle cry?”

“That was an accident! Besides, Elisanne came to me.”

“Oh Ilia,” Curran murmurs, a look of horror dawning on him. “I just realized. She came to you because I wouldn’t tell her anything when she asked _me.”_

“So this is your fault.”

The unimpressed look evolves into a glare. “Are you going to talk to Vixel?”

“Undecided. You seem to have a preference, though.”

“You’re bitey.” The trail of bite marks along one side of his jaw and down his neck and shoulder really punctuate the accusation. Marks he has not seen yet and likely will _not_ be happy about upon discovery. 

Heinwald refrains from pointing out that at least _he_ was lucky enough to be born with blunt human teeth, which is more than could be said for Lathna. “I admit, I am curious now. Who has spoken to you?”

“Oh man.” Curran finally sits up, stretching his arms above his head before settling down cross-legged on the bed. “Fritz and Vixel actually both came to me separately, which was pretty funny. Odetta came after Halloween about Louise, Albert came after his ex-boyfriend suddenly showed back up… and I swear half the women in the Halidom have talked to me about Elisanne. There’s more where that came from.”

“Who else?”

“You know, for someone who just said they hate gossip, you’re sure trying to pry a lot of it out of me.”

For once, Heinwald finds he can’t really think of a comeback to that. All he knows is that he’d probably listen to _anything_ if Curran was the one speaking to him.

Even Heinwald is ashamed of that fact that it took him this long to realize he was in love.

**Author's Note:**

> you can probably pinpoint exactly where in the life of the game I started playing it a lot less based on who showed up in this fic but sssh
> 
> Obviously I came back for Yukata Curran and The Wyrmprint, which is probably as close to canon confirmation of this couple as we'll ever get. Thank you cygames~


End file.
